


A Future

by FikFreak



Category: Richonne - Fandom, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Richonne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 01:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FikFreak/pseuds/FikFreak
Summary: Takes place after the season 7 finale. Rick and Michonne discover something else worth fighting for. This is a Richonne pregnancy fic, and will follow Grimes 2.0 throughout Michonne's pregnancy. I do not own or profit from anything related to The Walking Dead or its characters.





	A Future

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

"Ooooh. Not so rough with my breasts, Rick. Uhhhh."  
"Hm? Sorry, Chonne. Shit, move your ass like that again, damn." He says, and moves his hands from my breasts to greedily grasp at my ass cheeks. Squeezing, squeezing.  
I lean back on his bent legs and keep twirling my hips, then bounce, twirl a few rotations, then bounce. He likes that. Those strong hands of his assist my bounce, then gently pull me forward to hold me closer to his him. I can feel through my own hands now resting on his red-flushed chest, that he's tensing. Rick will bust soon if I keep this up much longer, and that's what I need him to do. We've been at it for nearly 45 minutes, and 4 positions later my hips are bruised from his tight grasp, my legs are like jelly, and I've cum so much that he's soaked down to his balls with the evidence. Rick always satisfies me, always. He says it's his job to please me, and he does. But today his insatiability is wearing me out. I'm still recovering two weeks later from a tough fight with one of Jadis' people, but I need my husband, and I know he needs and missed me as well.  
"Uhhhhhhh, shiiiiiiit! Damn," he sighs, blowing out a breath, finally reaching his climax. He's sweating, hair in his eyes, holding me close to him, rubbing my back with his left hand, his right hand massaging the back of my neck as he descends from his high.  
"Puffs of air escape my mouth and onto his bearded cheek that's tickling my lips. Rick turns his head and kisses my neck, using his body to turn me over to my side. I'm still snuggled into him, my leg thrown over his thigh, arms around his torso, drowsily heading towards sleep, which is usually Rick's thing and not mine, but I'm so tired I can't fight the pull.  
"Getting some water, you want anything?" He asks, his deep voice pulling my drooping lids open and to attention. Sitting up and raising from the bed, Rick bends over to search for his boxers in the dark, and I take a half-awake moment to prop my head on my hand, leaning up to appreciate the broad expanse and the muscles of his back. How the lines of him travel down to a trim waist, stopping in the middle at his cute little butt. His strong hairy thighs and legs, that left one bowed out a little more than the other. Big feet, and long toes. It's a sight to behold, and though I never get tired of looking at his body, all of him, I'm awake now and my stomach is excited by the prospect of food.  
Pulling up his underwear and turning back towards me and the bed, he's smiling down at me, and the moonlight from the window makes him seem otherworldly, ethereal almost, but he's not. Right here with me, curls a mess all over his head, smiling and happy, he's mine. I can touch him and feel him, not like the ghost of Mike that used to haunt me. Not like the melancholy memories of my little peanut that threatened to destroy me under crippling sadness. That loss and pain don't wound me as much anymore, but the thought of how this man saved me from it leads me to raise up to my knees and reach out to him. I lay my head on his chest for a minute, arms around his waist, hands resting on the dimples at the small of his back. Pressing my smaller body to his I appreciate how solid he is, how warm his skin is, how present and alive I always feel with him. We've come so far together, made it through so much, and we're still going, still fighting through a war.  
"What do my babies want? Hm? Might still be some fruit here if Carl didn't eat it all. It's like you guys are in a competition to finish them off before the other one does." He chuckles. "Want me to check?" The vibrations from his voice rumbles through his chest, and I nod my head to answer him, salivating at the thought of the crisp and sweet apples we got from the Hilltop. Then I realize, he said babies. Huh?  
"Why did you say babies? What are you talking about, Rick?" Confusion is all over my face now, I'm leaning back looking at him, trying to figure out what he means. Frequently he will call me baby, it's not foreign to my ears, but he said babies, plural. He just gives me that wide smile, the one that's all teeth, and so broad that his cheeks raise and make his eyes squint, causing the lines at his eyes to be more pronounced. It's a smile that I adore, because it belongs to me, not many get to see it outside of our family. But right now, it's laced with some mischief that I don't quite understand.  
"You trying to tell me you don't know your body better than I do? Did I actually figure something out before you? Gotta write this down!" He whispers, but he's excited, and still giving me a look. Moving away from me and towards the door, he's laughing to himself and shaking his head, leaving the room.  
Completely awake now I grab my blue robe and follow him downstairs, eager to understand what he's talking about.  
"You didn't have to come down, I know you're still recovering. I told you I would grab you an apple. Go on back upstairs, I got this."  
"That's not why I followed you and you know it. What do you mean you know my body better than I do? That's not true." I whisper, not wanting to wake the kids as we descend the stairs heading for the kitchen.  
"Chonne, I notice things. I know you." He responds, his back to me, but looking over his shoulder at me as he's bent down towards the open refrigerator door. "It's ok. I just assumed you either didn't realize it yet, or you would tell me when you were ready. Either way it wouldn't be a secret for long." Turning back to the open refrigerator door he pulls out two apples, and heads to the sink to rinse them off. "When you were in the infirmary I figured it out. I like the way it looks on you."  
"What?"  
"My baby, making that little bulge in your belly. It's cute. Come on. You haven't noticed it?"  
"You calling me fat, Mr. Grimes? Why do you think I'm pregnant?" I ask while accepting an apple from his outstretched hand. I take a big bite, enjoying the tangy sweetness.  
"No, Mrs. Grimes, I'm not." He says, laughing lightly and using his finger to wipe away some of the apple's juice that's escaped my mouth at the corner of my lips. "I'm saying that I apparently figured out you were pregnant before you did. I'm saying that I like the way my baby is making your tummy poke out to announce himself, even if you didn't notice." He's full on grinning now, and though it's cute, his bravado and certainty don't fully have me convinced he's right. Not yet.  
"I'm not pregnant. And I might have a little tummy bulge because we've been eating regularly lately. I did get in a pretty bad fight too, I've been a little tired, I'm recovering," I try to rationalize, and continue, "Sorry, you're wrong on this." I shrug, attempting to dismiss his declaration, but internally I'm really wondering if he isn't right.  
Reaching for my waist and hugging my body to his he whispers in my ear, "What about how sore your breasts are? Hm?" He reaches his right hand up and sneaks his hand into my robe to palm and softly massage my left breast, causing me to quietly moan. "You haven't had a period since before we went out scavenging last month. Like you said, you've been pretty tired lately, but you were even before the fight. Believe me now?" He asks in that thick country accent I adore. Leaning back a bit and tilting his head, his eyes are roaming over my face. He moves his hand from my breast to my neck and rubs at my quickening pulse with his thumb. His other hand rests on my ass, rubbing in squeezing circles.  
"I – I guess I might be, it's a possibility. I've been so stressed since everything with Negan, I guess I'm not keeping track. Obviously not as closely as you are." Now I'm thinking about it even more, face scrunching, trying to remember my last period, and definitely remembering all of the sex we had while out recently looking for guns. He's half listening to me now though, moving in to lick and kiss my throat. "God, Rick, I think I am pregnant. I guess our birth control methods are not very effective, huh?"  
"What birth control, you taking something?" He stops kissing my throat and his voice gives off a tone of fake shock and surprise.  
"No, I guess I was considering you pulling out every once in awhile. You're not very good at it though are you, Grimes?" I laughed, teasing him now, grabbing both sides of his face to look at him squarely, still recognizing mischief, but it's quickly turning to lust. The birth control thing was a running joke with us because we both knew that the few times we discussed it, he rarely followed through on his part.  
Licking his lips, he wryly responds, "Nah, I'm not really trying that hard to be good at it though. Come here." His hand behind my neck, he's firmly pulling me to him for a kiss.  
My body relaxes against his, and he hungrily deepens the kiss. His lips are soft, but firm against mine, coaxing my mouth open to accept his tongue. Grasping my hips, he hoists me onto the island, and steps between my opened legs. Pulling on the tie to my robe, it falls open and he places soft, wet kisses on my chest and collarbone.  
"Are you happy, Rick? Is this baby a good thing?" My breathing is becoming heavier, chest heaving. "I know what happened with Lori, and with this Negan thing, it's probably not a good time, but I'm not afraid. My pregnancy with Andre was easy. I still ran regularly up to my last trimester. I can still fight. We can do this." I say quickly trying to get it all out. Rick's mouth and tongue have me nearly panting now, but I needed to make sure he knew. I didn't want to sound like I was pleading with him, but I do want him to be happy about this. I never imagined having another baby, not in all of this. I was happy with Carl and Judith. But this, this feels like a gift that I don't want any sadness behind. I need him to be happy, not just accepting.  
"Looking up at me with those intense blue eyes, he stops kissing my neck to listen to me, but does not loosen his hold on my hips. "I'm very happy, Michonne. I know this war with the Saviors is going to be bad, we've already talked about the possibility of more loss. But, this is a good thing. This is about our future. This gives us more reason to fight, to win. It's a great thing."  
Bending a little at the waist, his soft lips graze my tummy, and I look down at him, noticing for the first time that my stomach is bulging a bit more than usual, and tears cloud my vision. I move my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his curls. Pushing me to my back, Rick has me spread before him on the island, kissing below my stomach to the apex of my thighs. Stopping there, he runs his left hand over my mound, using two fingers to open me to him, he inhales the scent of me, the evidence of our last coupling. His right arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, holding my body in place for his mouth to lick and nibble at the essence of me.  
"I love you, Chonne. I love our baby." He says, looking up at me from between my thighs.  
"I know, Rick, I love you too. Mmmm." I moan, throwing my head back at the feeling of his damp tongue flattened against my clit, applying pressure that threatens to leave me breathless. His wet mouth is consuming me, latched over my womanhood, his tongue is sloppily lapping from my ass to my clit. The sound of him humming and grunting in appreciation, mixed with the damp sounds of his tongue and lips feasting, send dazzling shocks through my body radiating from my core. He's pushed up my legs and has my feet resting flat on the island now, my thighs are spread wide, and I can feel his tongue rimming my ass in small circles while his thumb begins to lazily thrum my clit. I'm beginning to tense because I can feel that shock of pleasure moving through me, winding me so tight that I won't be able to hold back. I don't want to though, and neither does Rick. Like he said, he knows my body, and he knows that while we haven't fully explored anal, that area is extremely sensitive to his touch.  
"You taste so good, Chonne, but I want to feel you explode around me," He says, pausing to look up at me from between my legs, running his hand over his lips and beard, slowing his attention to my clit. I can't speak, only nod my head in assent, already feeling high but anticipating the deliciousness of what's next.  
Lifting me from the counter, Rick wraps his arms around me, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist. Holding me tight, he kisses me deeply, prodding my lips apart with his tongue, and carries me to the kitchen table, gently laying me down. Still kissing me, I can taste my pussy on on his lips and tongue, smell the scent of me in his damp beard. It turns me on even more, drowning my senses with him, with the smell, taste and feel of us together. If I wasn't under a sex induced haze, I might have mentioned to Rick that our children have to eat on this table, but at the moment I can't be bothered to care. Standing between my legs that hang limply from the table, my husband has lowered his boxers, and is fisting his cock, stroking it up towards his abdomen. His firm, turgid flesh is red, matching the scarlet hue of his chest and face, showing me in no uncertain terms how much he wants me, needs me. My own mouth is watering as I'm fighting the urge to drop to my knees and devour his cock, or lay back and allow my already sopping pussy to consume him instead. Leaning up on my elbows to watch him pleasuring himself with slow strokes, my fingers try to assuage the ache in my pussy. Slowly rubbing and inserting two fingers, I make up my mind, and plead in a soft but needy whisper, "Please, baby."  
"Yeah, that's enough," he commands as he decides he has teased us both to the limit. He can no longer stand to not partake of my body, and he stops his ministrations and firmly grasps his cock at the root with his right hand, shoving my fingers from my heat with the other. Teasing my lips with the head, he leans over my body and licks between my breasts. Pushing through me until there is nowhere left to go. Bottomed out, his hips begin a slow grind, pressing his pelvis against my clit. Now fully seated, he's stretched my insides out to take the fullness of him, lifting my legs over his shoulders. I cross my arms behind his neck, and hold on.  
Setting a furious pace, pushing and pulling, the tightness is back, and the tingles and shocks are setting me on edge. Looking up at my husband, his face covered in shadow, I can see how he's biting down on his bottom lip, and how focused and clouded with lust those clear blue eyes of his are.  
"You're so beautiful, Chonne, and you're all mine. You and this baby are mine," he grinds out, gently rubbing my stomach. "Say it," he demands. His face is covered in what can only be described as ecstasy, but there is also so much determination there as well, and though I'm about to hit my own peak, a fleeting thought about Rick's past flashes through my mind. But, that thought doesn't matter because my husband is pinning my legs back to my ears, opening me even wider to him. I can't catch my breath enough to speak, and he commands me again, this time with even more grit to his voice. "Say it. Say you're mine."  
"I'm…I'm…fuck- Rick, mmmmm, I'm yours. Shit." I breathe out, barely audible.  
I know he heard it though because his hips are crushingly banging against the back of my thighs, causing my breasts to bounce and jiggle. The table beneath us is wobbling and scraping across the floor with each thrust. Warmth is all I feel now, shooting through my body, emanating from where we are connected, pleasure is overtaking me and the panting has turned into deep cries of gratification. No longer able to withstand my legs hoisted so high, I drop them around his waist, and Rick grasps each thigh to hold me to him.  
"Shhh…fuck. Don't wake the kids," Rick whispers over my lips, still leaning over my body, my breasts pressed against his chest. Grasping onto his curls at his nape, I lick my tongue out to taste those pouty pink lips, taking pleasure in the groan he releases, and the anguish covering his face.  
Slowing his pace, Rick stands up straighter, trying to hold onto some semblance of control over himself, but I won't have it. I lean up as well, wrapping my right arm around his shoulders, I'm taking all of him and moving my ass to meet each stroke. My left hand rests over his heart, and I murmur in a hushed tone, "I'm yours, but you are also mine."  
"Chonne, baby. Fuck you feel so good!" He mumbles as his body tightens up, his eyes close, and I can feel the rush from his body into mine, filling me.  
Rubbing through his curls, his head is tilted back while he's catching his breath, and I'm kissing his chest, savoring the salty flavor of his sweat. Rick drops my thighs and brings his head back down, focusing his eyes on me, roaming over my still somewhat swollen face. Slowing pulling his length from my body, I feel a rush of wetness, our mingled excitement. With delicate fingers he rubs the side of my face with his bandaged right hand, thumb stroking over my lips. "You are why I fight. You, our baby, our kids. When I thought you were dead, nothing else mattered. But now, every time I look at you, alive and swelling with the life we created. And I look at our family, Carl and Judith, you all give me the strength to fight. I'm not losing any of this." He slowly nodded, and gently pressed his lips to mine. Placing his left hand on my stomach, he whispered with conviction, "This is our future."

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

II. 3 mos  
Pulling over the van for the third time since we left Alexandria, I'm wondering if this trip wasn't a bad idea. I watch my wife throw open her door, lean over, and expel the last of her breakfast. Her lithe body moved so fast I didn't even get a chance to help her and hold back her hair.  
Exiting the van and rushing over to her side, I lean down close to her face, offering her a water bottle. "Do you think it would be better if you lay down in the back of the van? Help settle your stomach for the rest of the ride?" I ask, moving some of her hair from her face so she can drink. Despite fighting morning sickness for the past month or so, her skin is radiant, glowing. With the sun shining on her, illuminating her hair and face, I'm struck by her beauty and frozen in place. Loosely framing her face, her cottony soft hair appears to be spun through with gold. The swelling is now gone for the most part from the velvety chocolate blush of her decadent skin, but the memory of its viciousness marring such perfection threatens to overcome me with virulent rage.  
"Thanks for the water, Rick." Dragging me from the depths of such dangerous ruminations with her soft voice, one hand placed lovingly over her stomach, she takes a big gulp of the water, and I can't help but to focus on her lips around the bottle, and the movement of her elegant neck and throat as she swallows. Her lips, her eyes, everything about her really, has me so hypnotized and just wide open for her, I know I must seem like a love struck fool, but I suppose I am. Since that day at the fence, a time that feels so long ago, this woman has changed my life. So much so that I am almost thankful for the dead that roam the earth, for bringing her to me.  
Noticing me staring at her, she locks eyes with me and smiles. "No, Rick, I'm good now I think. I just shouldn't have eaten so much this morning. I'm fine, let's keep going." Looking around at the forest surrounding us, squinting at the brightness of the sun, she continues, "It's not safe to be out here too long, we should head on to The Kingdom."  
"Ok, let's get going then." I agree, but before I can fully stand she takes hold of my hand resting on her thigh, and presses it to her stomach with her own.  
"Plus, I think laying down in the back of this van is what got us here in the first place right?" She uncharacteristically pouts, reminding me of how good this van has been to us.  
Though I could easily get lost in her smile, and the sexy memories of the love and desire that sparked the probable conception of our baby in this van, we should probably get going because of course she's right, she's always right. Despite the walkers, the war with the saviors is not resolved, and it isn't safe, but I want to be sure she's ok to continue this ride over to The Kingdom. With Dr. Carson no longer at The Hilltop, and no doctors at Alexandria, Ezekiel has offered the services of the Kingdom doctors to both Hilltop and Alexandria, which we all sorely needed after the war started.  
So far, no one other than Carl, and probably Enid as well knowing Carl, is aware of Michonne being pregnant. She's not really showing yet with her clothes on, though now wearing looser tops than she's used to, it's easy to keep it under wraps. With everyone so on edge about the war, it just doesn't feel like a good time for anyone to be worried about one of Alexandria's leaders, decision makers, and best fighters being sidelined in any way. Not that she would allow that, and anyone who knows my wife knows that she will fight to the death, pregnant or not, to protect herself, our family, Alexandria. But honestly, we also don't want to give our enemies any more leverage over us by knowing about the baby. I guess we're just playing it safe, and with my desperate need to protect her and this precious life we created, it's the right decision.  
"You just let me know if you need me to pull over again. Or if there is anything else I can do to make you more comfortable." I respond, nodding towards the back of the van, raising my eyebrows in a suggestive manner. A small grin covers my face as I follow her lead to remind her that I am a full service husband, at all times, and would have no problem with some alone time in the van, again.  
"No flirting, Grimes. Stop giving me that look and let's get going." Grinning, she swivels her legs back into the van and I lean down to place a kiss to her forehead and close her door shut, heading back around to the driver's side.  
Once at The Kingdom, Michonne and I are shown to the infirmary. Holding firmly to her hand, we enter what used to be the nurse's office in this old school. There are three beds, a scale, medicine cabinets stocked with drugs, an exam table, and not surprisingly given that there was one at Hilltop, an ultrasound machine.  
Having a seat to wait for the doctor to arrive, I realize holding hands has become a constant and regular occurrence between Michonne and I. Comforted by the presence of her hand in mine, I also become a little lost in the remembrance of a time long gone now, when all of this was normal. When there were no walkers tearing down the remnants of a now decimated society. When it was perfectly normal for a husband and wife to have babies, with no fear of immediate complication or death, no hesitance. These thoughts also lead me to remember Lori, how worried and scared she was when pregnant with Carl, even with all of the amenities of that world. How those fears now seem so small and unwarranted, especially given the fatal danger of her delivery with Judith.  
My musings cause me to direct my attention to the woman beside me, for whom my admiration, adoration, and love for is limitless. Browsing the room in her own quiet and observant way, she is unaware of my eyes on her. She is clutching my hand tightly, tighter than usual, and humming. I would never complain about her grasping any part of me with firmness, but her hand is also sweaty, and well the humming is new.  
"What is that? You're humming? I've never heard you hum or sing before," I say with incredulity, her attention swinging towards me and away from her perusal of the room.  
"A little nervous I guess. Doesn't this seem like a sign to you, Rick? How normal this all appears. We're at an old school in the nurse's office, but this doesn't look or feel much different from when I had Andre. It feels…right. Like everything is going to be ok."  
Pausing, she looks into my eyes with such earnestness and hope. Biting down on her plump lower lip, I can feel my own voice threatening to catch in my throat when I answer her. "Yeah, yeah it does. I was just thinking the same thing, remembering how it was with Carl, with Judith. But this, this is a good sign I think." Agreeing with her assessment, I lean over to kiss her, watching her worry her lips, no longer able to stand not being closer to her in this moment, in this shared realization. Taking those lips that belong to me, I savor the plush softness of them, of her, my fingers steadying her mouth and lips so I can easily drink from them.  
Moaning into the sweetness of her mouth, tangling my tongue with hers, I'm getting lost, pulling her away with me, and forgetting that we are waiting on the doctor. Within seconds we are both reminded where we are by the sound of footsteps to my left. We both rise to greet the new arrival.  
We are met by a tall black man, bearded, wearing his hair cut low, mid 30s or so, who proceeds to introduce himself.  
"Hi, I'm Corey. I'm the doctor." He says, reaching his hand out in greeting.  
Shaking his hand, using my firmest grip, I greet him back. "Nice to you meet you, Corey. I'm Rick Grimes." Immediately I'm sizing him up. It's something that has become second nature, like breathing. Quickly assessing a threat can mean the difference between life and death nowadays, and I do not take chances.  
"Gotta say, it's great to finally meet the Rick Grimes. I have heard so much about you, man. You are a big deal around here with everything that's going on. Highly respected by the king." He says with a smile, and then turns his attention to Michonne.  
"Hello, I'm Michonne."  
Eyes lighting with recognition, he appreciatively lets his eyes linger on her face for a moment, probably forgetting I'm standing here by the look he's giving her. "And Michonne, wow. You are everything Ezekiel said you were, just stunning. It's a pleasure to meet you, really." Reaching out, he grasps her right hand with both of his, bringing them to his lips to place a light kiss on her knuckles. Never breaking eye contact with her, he doesn't immediately release her, and she seems to be in no hurry to take her hand back.  
Michonne gives him a small, uncharacteristically coy smile, and slowly pulls back her hand. "Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you as well." She's clearly taken with this guy's charm, flattered by how smooth he is, and it has my hackles up. I'm definitely irritated, wondering what he has heard about her from Ezekiel that has him grinning at her so widely, showing teeth, in front of me. Did he call her stunning?  
"The pleasure is definitely mine." Pausing for a beat there is a moment of awkward silence, then he proceeds. "So, what can I do for you all? Is someone at Alexandria sick? King Ezekiel mentioned that there is a nice sized community of folks over there, but no doctor, so I'm happy to assist if I can." He says, speaking to both of us I guess, but looking at Michonne.  
"She's pregnant." I abruptly respond, wrapping my arm around her tiny waist, possessively pulling her closer to my side and resting my hand along the swell of her hip. "She needs a doctor." I can see my wife giving me what she calls her "side-eye", but I don't care.  
"Uh, yes, I believe I'm pregnant, maybe a few months or weeks along, I'm not entirely sure." Michonne speaks up, taking charge of the direction of the conversation from me.  
Grinning openly at her, Corey claps and rubs his hands together. "Great! Babies are wonderful, and I have delivered 5 since I have been here. I was a general family doctor before everything, but I'm a quick study. I'd be happy to take you on, as a patient."  
"Are you the only doctor here? You seem young, maybe someone more experienced? Maybe a woman?" Turning to my wife, assuming she might see the logic in my questioning, I continue. "Michonne, maybe you would be more comfortable with a woman?" Rubbing my thumb across my index finger to try and calm my irritation, I throw my concerns out there. Even if it wouldn't make Michonne more comfortable for her to have a woman doctor, it would for me, so I figure that it can't hurt to ask.  
"That's not necessary, Rick. I had a male OBGYN before." Calmly dismissing my question, Michonne looks to me, and I can tell by the look in those coffee brown eyes of hers, that she can sense my discomfort, but is not going to address it right now.  
"There is another doctor available, a female, who was a podiatrist. I would love to have you as a patient, though, and clearly I'm biased. But you might want to take a chance on me instead." This guy is smooth. Still grinning, and completely unbothered by my attempt to rattle him, he offers for us to all have a seat.  
Michonne and I retake our seats, and he pulls over a chair, seating himself in front of her. I lean in closer to her with my body, placing my arm across her shoulders.  
"So, let's get started. I have just a few questions, and then we can do an exam and ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy, try to figure out how far along you are, and take it from there. Pregnancy tests are somewhat hard to come by, so this will be the best way to confirm everything. Is that ok with you, Michonne?"  
"Yes that's fine, sounds good." She nods, confirming her assent to the plan.  
Rattling off a series of questions, he continues. "Ok, so tell me about yourself, Michonne. How old are you? Is this your first pregnancy? If not, how did those experiences go? Do you have a history of any personal or family illness that could present and complicate your pregnancy? Any sickness or pain now?"  
Taking a deep breath, hands clasped in her lap she calmly answers him. "I'm 38. This is my third pregnancy. I had one successful pregnancy, and I had a miscarriage when the world fell apart. We had just found out, and then Atlanta was evacuated into the camps. I was very early on, about 6 weeks along. I had a lot of cramping, heavy bleeding. Another woman at the camp I had befriended told me what it probably was. She'd had one before." Pausing momentarily to look my way, her face is stoic, and her eyes now hold a glassiness that belies her placid demeanor. Sadness, melancholy. It pains me to hear this, most of which I did not know. Comforting her the best way I can right now, I pull her closer to me, and place a kiss to her cheek.  
Gracing me with a small, sad smile, she clears her throat and picks up where she left off. "My other pregnancy was so easy though. I almost gave birth in the car on the way to the hospital. Mike was in a panic. Traffic in Atlanta was always so awful, and that hot summer day was no exception. We made it though, I was rushed directly to delivery and had him naturally, no pain medication. Not that I didn't want it, he just came too quick for it. The doctor said if we had been 15 minutes later Andre would have been born in the front seat of a Lexus." Laughing at the memory, Corey joins in, chuckling at the story.  
"But he was beautiful, a little small, 6 pounds even. That's why I called him my peanut. It was all very easy, the whole pregnancy and delivery. No illnesses, just swollen feet, and a crazy craving for all things chocolate that I still have, but that was about it. And now just some morning sickness, no pain, no cramping."  
With my arm still draped across her shoulders, I give her an encouraging squeeze. Even though I am a little thrown by her miscarriage admission, it's good to hear her talking about her son Andre in relation to a happy memory.  
"Good. Hopefully this will go as smoothly as your last full term pregnancy." Looking to Michonne and then to me, nervously, Corey clears his throat and continues, "I'm going to begin the pelvic exam now, if that's ok?"  
"Yeah." I dryly groan under my breath. I'm not eager for this man to put his hands so close to my wife, inside of my wife.  
"Yes, that's fine." Michonne says, rising from her chair.  
Rising as well, Corey turns towards a cabinet behind him. "Ok. Well I need you to disrobe, completely. We don't have any gowns, but I do have some light blankets, sheets, you can cover up with. Here you go," He hands her a sheet, and turns to me. "Rick, I guess you and I can step out to give this young lady some privacy, and then I will be back shortly to get started."  
"I'll stay to help her get changed." I firmly state, rising to stand next to Michonne, giving him full eye contact to make it clear what my place is here, because something tells me he doesn't fully understand.  
"Cool. Ok, if that's alright with you, Michonne?" He has the nerve to ask, it's taking everything in me not to respond in a way that I'm more used to.  
"We're together, it's ok," she says in that diplomatic and cool way that she uses to diffuse my temper when needed.  
"Michonne is my wife." I declare in an attempt to make things as clear as possible for this guy.  
"I wasn't aware that you were married." Corey responds, his constant smile now faltering a bit. "I will return shortly then." He turns and leaves the room.  
"Rick, what was all that about?"  
"Can you believe that guy?!" We both talk at the same time, inadvertently speaking over each other.  
My hands at my hips, right hand resting on my gun, I'm shocked by her question. "Wait, what do you mean what was that about? Did you miss that guy all over you?" I ask incredulously. "And how come you never told me about a miscarriage? Why is this the first I'm hearing about it, Chonne?"  
"Rick, hold on." She puts her hand up to in a halting motion. "He seems nice. He didn't know we're together, most folks outside of Alexandria probably don't know. We could just be sleeping together. I could be pregnant by someone else. There was no way for him to know. As for the miscarriage that's not really something to talk about while killing walkers, or scavenging for food, or fighting a war against a bat toting psycho." Michonne reasons, her voice holding a tinge of exasperation with me. I know that voice. She thinks I'm over reacting. I'm not.  
I saw how he looked at her, it's how I look at her, how a lot of men look at her. It's with appreciation, want, desire. How he held her hand, probably recognizing and appreciating how deceptively small and soft it was. As for the miscarriage thing? Having to find out something like that about my woman at the same time as this stranger, is bothering the hell out of me. About as much as her telling him we're together, not that we're married. So no, I'm not over reacting, about any of this. But I don't want to stress her, or make it all a big thing while he's outside the door waiting on us, so I let it go, for now.  
Walking over to the exam table she begins removing her clothes, lifting her loose blue sweater over her head. Standing in front of her, I take the sweater from her, tossing it onto a nearby chair, and begin unbuttoning her pants. She is so small still, but the slight bump in her stomach has made it impossible for her to button her pants anymore. Instead they are held together by a rubber band looped through the fastener hole and hooked to the button. "You're going to need new pants soon," I tease, attempting to lighten the mood.  
"Look who's talking. I'll get new pants when you do, Grimes." She chuckles and smiles, teasing me right back, all the tension from before forgotten.  
"That's low, Chonne. You know these are my favorite pants." I feign hurt, crouching to help her remove her boots from her tiny feet first, and then the pants.  
Hooking her fingers in her yellow cotton panties, she begins pushing them down over the swell of her thick thighs. Taking notice of her movement, I look up and my brow furrows in confusion seeing her panties descend to her ankles, and immediately she answers, "For the pelvic exam, Rick."  
Taking in a deep breath I nod in understanding, and help her take those off as well, not tossing them to the chair with her other clothes, I shove them down into my jeans pocket.  
"What are you doing, Rick? I need those." She says on a laugh, shaking her head in amusement, standing before me, nearly nude, in just her bra. Looking up at her, I know exactly why a man like Corey would be attracted to my Michonne. She's everything a man would want. Intelligent, with a beautiful spirit, she's a tough warrior, she's got a gorgeous face and body, with the most amazing ass I've ever seen, and she was willing to take a chance on a broken man like me, with two kids. Clearly she's the better half of our partnership, and in recognition, I get what Corey sees. I'm uncomfortable with his recognition, but I understand it.  
Reaching behind her and grabbing her supple ass cheeks with both hands, giving them a firm squeeze and pulling her closer to my face, I kiss her mound, savoring the light fragrance of soap and the natural scent of Michonne that remains in her silky pubic hair, and then up to her stomach. "Not right now you don't. I'm just holding on to them for safe keeping." I protest, then lightly swat her on the behind, "Now hop up on the table. Let me get you covered before your boyfriend comes back."  
Michonne rolls her eyes, and a knock at the door interrupts our playful banter. Corey comes in just as I've gotten Michonne covered with the sheet.  
"Are we ready?" He questions, this time looking at both Michonne and I, speaking to us both.  
"Yes." Michonne answers, and Corey stops to sanitize his hands, then proceeds to rub them together while approaching the exam table. Standing next to my wife, near her head, I've got my hand on her shoulder, rubbing, trying to ease some of my anxiousness. Michonne looks up at me, and grabs my hand, winking, instantly calming my nerves.  
Putting on some gloves, and adding some type of lubricant to his fingers, he asks Michonne to open and raise her legs, noting that she will feel some pressure. Approaching her he tells her to relax, and Michonne begins humming again, I assume to distract herself.  
"I remember that song. Lauryn Hill right? It was the song she wrote for her son I think?" He questioned, placing his right hand over Michonne's lower stomach and pelvis.  
Shifting a little, she replies wistfully, "Yes. I used to love that song, her album got me through my first year of college at Columbia. It just completely matched the energy of New York, of being in a new city, a new school. Such freedom for a young girl."  
"Same. She was amazing. My wife and I saw her live once in DC. She was late, but when she got there the show she gave was fire." He says, the same hint of wistfulness in his own remembrance.  
"She was wonderful wasn't she? I wanted to name my son Zion because of her. Mike hated that name, wanted to name the baby Andre after his father. I didn't fight him on it, he had lost his father to cancer when he was very young, so I got it. It was sweet," she abruptly stops, her eyes focused on the ceiling above her. "It was one of the reasons why I loved him. His thoughtfulness, how sweet he was." Then as if realizing she had uncharacteristically revealed so much about herself, she silenced, once again focusing on the exam. "So, is there a baby in there?" She asks, releasing a soft chuckle. It doesn't fool me though. She does it to move on, to rush away from her memories.  
Listening to this exchange, there is a hint of a shared experience in the back and forth between Michonne and Corey. Witnessing her share a part of herself, who she is, was, with another man, is strange. Right now I can't put my finger on why, but a foreign sense of being an outsider with her is wedging itself into my brain. I look down at this woman, my woman, and a realization is hitting me, one that I can't deal with right now because Corey is backing away from Michonne's legs, removing his gloves.  
Making eye contact with each of us he proclaims, "Yes. You are indeed pregnant, Michonne. And everything seems fine, but let's get an ultrasound to take a look at your baby, try to nail down how far along you are."  
Lowering her legs, Michonne inches back on the exam table, and I push the back of it up, to support her sitting position. Corey inches the sheet down below her stomach, and places the ultrasound wand, covered in gel, on to her stomach.  
"Your skin is beautiful, amazing. Not one stretch mark. Palmers?" He asks, eyes roaming over the expanse of smooth, coffee colored skin over Michonne's abdomen. I don't know what Palmers is, so I wait for Michonne's answer to clue me in.  
Michonne laughs immediately and responds, "No! I haven't used cocoa butter in so many years! Coconut oil was really my thing. I loved that stuff. When I came back to Atlanta after law school, a friend of mine who used to twist my locs was into using coconut oil for everything. Cooking, oil pulling, deodorant, oiling her hair, skin, you name it. She gave me some and I was hooked. Used it everyday too, especially while I was pregnant. No stretch marks on my stomach, but some on my thighs and hips. That stuff was a miracle. I wish I could find some now.”  
"You remind me so much of my wife she loved coconut oil too, but was still faithful to her Palmers. We were both from the DMV area, met at Howard. But she was like you, smart, beautiful, smooth dark skin, dazzling white smile." Lost in his own memories, he's smiling, but his voice trails off at the end while he's traveling over Michonne's stomach with the wand, focusing on the ultrasound screen.  
Clearing his throat to break the awkward silence, he continues, "I have some, some coconut oil. Awhile ago a group went out scavenging, found an organic market that was relatively untouched. I guess no one wants healthy food during the apocalypse, huh? Brought back a lot of stuff, coconut oil, tofu, chia seeds, stuff like that. I can give you a jar for your skin and hair. Use it everyday on your stomach at least." Corey offered, and again, that odd feeling came over me. At this point I have completely withdrawn from the conversation, a spectator, watching, forgotten.  
"Thank you, Corey, that would be great. You don't realize how much you love something until you don't have it anymore I guess."  
I'm not sure if she's still referencing coconut oil or something else, but the urge to talk to her, to ask so many questions is firing in my brain. And there's something else. This Michonne, this woman talking and laughing with this man, is different. She's talkative, openly laughing, trusting this stranger with these little pieces of herself. Selfishly I want her to save these words for me. For a time when she and I are alone, and I can feed my addiction to her, feasting on her confessions, gorging myself on the open intimacy of her smile. I close my eyes for a moment to submerge my discomfort, taking a few deep breaths to re-focus on the exam.  
Narrowing her eyes to focus on the ultrasound monitor, she asks almost timidly, "Is that?" She halts, and focuses even more on the image, bending forward a bit. Mouth open, a loud sigh and a tear escape her. Turning, looking for me, she notices me standing some ways behind her, and outstretches her hand to me. Seeking my touch, my presence, she whispers, "Do you see that, Rick? That's us. Twice!" She laughs.  
That night, preparing for bed in one of the rooms at The Kingdom, Michonne sits nude on the side of the bed. Having showered, she is now applying the coconut oil Corey gave her to her body. Entering the room from my own shower, there is only a single lantern illuminating the small space around us. The way its light is hitting the curves and softness of her body is quickly pulling me out of the melancholy I've been experiencing since earlier. My own body is coming alive, responding to the visceral desire that is always there for her, the need to touch her, to connect, to love on her, and to experience the warmth of her love in return. In just my boxers, my own skin still damp, I kneel in front of her. "Let me help you with you that."  
"Ok. And maybe while you do that, you can also tell me what's wrong?" Soft and easy the words leave her mouth, concern in her dark eyes. Immediately I know I have to explain myself.  
"I figured something out today, about myself. I have to tell you that I'm ashamed and I'm sorry." Head down, I begin, dipping my hand in the jar to gather some of the coconut oil. Rubbing and warming my hands together, I'm easing them across her lustrous thighs, down her firm calves, to her dainty toes.  
"For?" She queries, eyes roaming over my face. I look up at her, and the pout of her lavish lips as the word escapes from between them, threatens to derail my thoughts. Instead, looking back down to her legs, calming myself so that I can take my time with my words, to make sure I say this right, I steel myself to continue.  
My need to communicate and be understood by this woman is paramount. Briefly closing my eyes, then making eye contact with her, I explain, "For not knowing who you are, who you were. For never asking you about yourself. For selfishly loving and needing you, more than anything ever. Taking advantage of how much you care for me, love me, love the kids. You have seen me at my worst, struggling with a past that doesn't matter now, to fight this war. Still, here you are, giving me everything and asking for nothing in return. I'm sorry." What started as a firm declaration of my faults, ends on a broken apology. "I don't know your last name, your favorite color, where you went to school, if you have siblings, the music you like. Shit, I don't even know your damn birthday. You had a miscarriage I knew nothing about. How can I call myself your husband? I understand why you don't."  
My words are not even sufficient to explain to her the burden my head and heart have been carrying around since our appointment this morning. Since I watched my wife, the love of my life, divulge so much of who she is to another man. Pain she never shared with me, things I never bothered to ask. To have to learn them at the same time as this stranger, who is so taken and enamored with her that he risked his life to openly admire her in front of me. Shame and jealousy crowded within me, jockeying with the complete and bursting joy I experienced at seeing my babies, 12 weeks along, growing in the womb of the person I adore the most in this world, in my entire life.  
Bringing her foot to my mouth, I place a kiss to her lovely ankle, and I attempt to explain myself, "Seeing Corey so taken with you, admiring your beauty, it burned me with jealousy. Hearing you connect with him, sharing things with him that I don't understand or know anything about, it made me feel like I don't know you. How dare I call you my wife when I don't know these things, these pieces of who you were? I don't deserve it, but I need you to forgive me. Give me a chance to earn your love, your affection, to give you everything you deserve."  
"Rick, my husband." Is all she utters before she is coming towards me. Shocked, the force of her strong but tiny body sends me landing on my ass. Sensing my distress, she grasps my face between her delicate hands, lovingly massaging through the salt and pepper of my beard the way she knows I like. Wrapping my arms firmly around her body, the fool in love that I am, I'm replete with veneration for how she can undo me, exulting in the heat and pressure of her small body on top of mine, her luscious breasts flush against my chest.  
Gazing into my eyes, making sure she has my attention, she speaks in a firm but loving way, breathing life giving warmth over my lips. "You know me, Rick. You saved me. You have seen me at my worst, when I had given up on living. You have been the one right there with me, fighting every step of the way to survive, together. Giving me everything you could. You're the only man who could do that. Baby, there is nothing to forgive." Taking a shallow breath, almost on a short laugh, she continues, "We don't have to follow the old world's rules about how many insignificant things we can check off that we know about each other. We know everything that matters. I know that you are a man who would do anything to protect what's his. And you know the same of me. Everything else, is nice, but…" Guiding her hand down from my cheek, and over my chest, she reaches through the opening in my boxers to my cock. Squeezing with gentleness, she kisses my lips sweetly and murmurs, "The love that we have for each other is what matters. Not who I was before, or who you were before. What matters is who we are now, what we're creating together." Licking out her tongue along the shell of my ear she whispers, "That's it."  
With that, her words, and the warmth of her touch and her tongue disarm me. There is nothing of the foolish jealousy or shame from earlier left. Those feelings have been replaced with something exquisite, yet carnal. The kind of feeling that only this woman has been able to stir in me. It's a sensation that I've never experienced until her, like a drug shooting through my veins, thrilling me, inciting the most delectable of highs. Michonne is my drug, and I am truly addicted.  
My breathing is now labored, quickening, the grinding of her body over mine is pulling me deeper into a lust filled haze. The lazy up and down of her palm, firmly grasping my cock, has my eyes drooping closed, savoring the flush of pleasure. My chest bulking with each heavy breath, I can sense the stiff yet modest swell of our babies between us. Reaching around to clench her ass in my greedy hands, the fingers of my right hand wander from her ass to seek out her wetness. Finding her cleft damp with need and excitement, I'm overcome with the inclination to bury myself inside of her, possess her. Back and forth I rub my fingers in between the plump lips of her womanhood, coating them in her slickness, arousing her indulgently.  
Taking hold of my stiff flesh, she lifts from my lap. Directing me to her entrance she swallows my length entirely on her descent. A slow gust of air escapes me, relief flushing over my feverish skin.  
"Mmmmm. That's deep, Rick, yes." She lazily rolls her head back, exposing her throat to my impatient lips, while grasping my hair with both hands. Ravenously I'm sucking and licking at her throat, as she delights me with a slow hypnotic pace. The up and down of her tightness around me is excruciatingly delicious, and I have to move my hands to the swell of her rounded hips to hold on.  
Picking up the pace, now swiftly rising on her knees and dropping onto my cock, then slowly grinding into my pelvis, Michonne is superbly sending me to the edge of ecstasy. "Damn, Chonne. Damn. Don't stop, baby," I whisper into her full breasts, dewy with sweat. Lapping my tongue across her hard nipples, sucking as much of her breasts into my mouth as I can, my voracious appetite commands me to devour her, to give as good as I'm getting. Her lips release a series of moans as I'm now thrusting up with as much force as I can muster from this position, inspired to share this titillating adventure with her. Taking in her face, I witness arousal awaken her lovely features, dark eyes focusing on me, her magnificent tongue lazily licking across her top lip.  
"Ah, ah, ah. Yes, baby, right there. I'm coming," her voice is high pitched, pleasure evident across her glowing skin. Immediately my thighs and balls are soaked by her climax, her walls swelling and tightening around me. Clutching a handful of her locs in my left hand, I firmly hold her body to me with the other, taking care not to crush the bump of her stomach to me too roughly. She's riding the wave still, as I'm still thrusting from beneath her, chasing my own grand finish.  
Head bowed, Michonne is nuzzling her face into my neck, rubbing against my bearded cheeks with her delicate fingers again, furiously bouncing from my deep thrusts. Now I can feel the warmth that engulfs my body from my toes up, electrifying my being. Biting down on my lip, bracing myself, my climax bursts from the bulbous tip of my cock, coating the depths of my wife.  
Chest heaving, deep breaths escaping my lips, I hear Michonne's muffled voice straining to be heard from her own lips pressed close against my cheek. "My favorite color is Kelly green, I went to Columbia for my undergrad in political science, and for law school. I was an only child, loved all kinds of music, and my birthday is February 14th. The miscarriage was sudden, and painful." Sitting back on my thighs, those dusky copper eyes locked onto my own, she continued. "That life is over now. This," she points her finger to me and then to herself, "is what matters now. Agreed?"  
"Yeah. Yeah, I got that now."  
"Good," she huffs, pushing me down onto my back, sliding over to snuggle into my side. "Now how do we tell everyone we're having twins?"

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

III. 6 mos  
"Mommy, my brothers be here soon?" My baby girl asks, kicking her little legs back and forth, as she sits at the kitchen table getting her hair brushed, hands fidgeting in her lap.  
"In a few more months, sweetheart." I respond, trying to focus on brushing all of the tangles leftover from a full day of playing, and a night of sleeping, from her wispy hair.  
"Will they be able to play?" She continues, "When they come out of your tummy?"  
"Not at first they won't. They will be very tiny, but they will get bigger, just like you. That's why Mommy will need your help. That's what big sisters do." I remind her. This is a conversation that we have had numerous times since Rick and I told the kids, and everyone else, that we were having twins. Twin boys no less. Carl was excited to have more boys around, despite the fact that he spends the majority of his time working his daily shifts on guard duty, and at The Hilltop with Enid. Judith on the other hand seems very interested in her role as a big sister, making sure that Rick and I understand that now that she's a big girl, four years old, using the potty and all, that she can help with her brothers.  
"I can help like Carl help. I a big sister, Mommy." Judith affirms, pointing to herself and nodding her head confidently.  
"Yes you are, sweetheart," I agree with her. "But, Judy, honey, sit still for Mommy, please? We are almost done."  
"I want to play now, Mommy." She whines. Her voice airy and sweet, still holding the dulcet tones of toddlerhood.  
"I know, just let me brush through these last few tangles, and finish your braid, then you can play. Promise." I bargain, slowly pulling the brush through her fine, sandy brown locks. Her squirming settles down a bit with the promise that she will be free soon. But I know my Judith, and I know her sitting still will only last a few more minutes before her anxiousness to get on with the business of being 4 will take over and send her back to her wiggling ways.  
Now satisfied with my answers about the babies, and confirming her very important status as a big sister, she's quietly singing her ABCs to herself. We have been working on them each day, and I'm brimming with pride to witness that she can now repeat them on her own to herself.  
She's such a smart girl, so confident with her place in this odd new world. Full of questions, almost inquisitive to a fault, possessing a healthy dose of skepticism, she's also accepting and all encompassing with her affection for certain people. Unexpectedly, at least on my part, I am one of those people. Always gracing me with an unceasing barrage of hugs and kisses, as well as most times being my unwavering shadow, Judith has undoubtedly taken to me as her mother. Never once, given her inquisitive nature, questioning that certainty. For a child that questions everything, from why she has to go to bed, to why she is alive but the walkers are dead, her queries cover a wide array of topics.  
While everyone else, Rick and I included, were unsure about Rick's and my relationship, and other women like Carol and Tara were helping with her, Judith chose me. She was so certain about me, about my role as her mother, that she has been calling me numerous iterations of Mom since she could talk. It was one of her first words. And given that Carl has only recently started calling me Mom, I have to assume that she was doing so under the secret tutelage of Rick, or her Ma was initially for Michonne, and has transformed to the more endearing, Mom. Either way it melts my heart every time, and strengthens my already abundant love for my baby girl.  
Lost in my own thoughts, and trying to tame these last few flyaways, I can hear Rick's heavy footsteps descending the stairs, announcing that he is awake.  
"Morning." He utters on a loud yawn as he enters the room, hair still tousled, voice gravelly from sleep. Sidling up next to me, still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, he leans in and nuzzles his face in to the crook of my neck, tickling me with his scruff and leaving behind a series of wet kisses. With his right hand he slides his hand into the opening of my oversized pajama shirt, the top to his bottoms, and gives my watermelon sized belly a soothing rub. "How are my boys this morning?"  
"All over the place, all night. My bladder, my ribs. They are either up all night partying, or they are wild sleepers," I grouse, hating to complain but those little arms and legs are getting out of control.  
Scratching at his bearded cheek, he wonders out loud, "Probably just wild sleepers like their mama." He teases, and dodges me playfully swatting at his arm. Crouching down in front of Judith, Rick kisses her on the forehead "How's my Judith?"  
"Good morning, Daddy," she responds, puckering her lips to give him a kiss.  
Turning his head for his cheek to accept her kiss, he knowingly asks, "Are you being still for Mama?" Taking a seat at the table next to her, eyebrows raised, he leans back, waiting for her answer.  
"I'm trying, Daddy. But I wanna play now." She explains, peeking at her father with those big round eyes, hoping to drum up some sympathy from the person she can always count on for it.  
Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table, he takes a big bite, crunching through the skin of the sweet fruit. "I know, pumpkin. I hate when Mama cuts my hair," he claims, quickly glancing to me with humor in his eyes, knowing that he loves any time I have my fingers in his hair. "But try to be a big girl and give your mama a few more minutes to finish, ok."  
Reaching for her tiny foot, he gives her a playful shake. "You're coming with Daddy today, so you gotta look your best. We've got lots to do today."  
"Ok, Daddy." She nods her head in ascent, and though a tiny impatient huff escapes her, the thought that she gets to spend the day with her dad helps her sit still. Her little legs, covered in her favorite Hello Kitty leggings, keep kicking though, evidencing her apparent restlessness. Rick attempts to distract her by offering her a bite of his apple, which she accepts with aplomb, leaving behind the markings of where her little teeth took a bite.  
Smiling at the sight of these two, I am reminded that she's so much like Carl. Neither of them can bear taking the time to slow down for mundane things like getting their hair cut or combed, with Carl commenting more than once that it's a waste of his time. I offer to cut his hair whenever I cut Rick's but, he always declines, and at this point it's a battle not really worth fighting with him, as I think I've figured his true reasons for keeping his hair long, but I keep it to myself.  
"I'm going to head over to The Hilltop today. Pickup Carl. See Maggie and baby Hershel. There is a lady there who is going to twist my locs for me. I should be back tonight, if not first thing tomorrow." I casually mention while Rick is somewhat distracted with Judith, hoping not to get too much resistance from him. Since we found out about the twins a few months back, he has been very attentive, extra protective. Everyday it seems like my stomach is bigger than the last, and proportionally his desire to keep me in his sights increases. Everyone knows about the babies as well, and dare I say they are all equally complicit with my husband in their own levels of attentiveness.  
"Uh huh," he utters in that deep voice of his. The one that rumbles in his chest, the raspy gruff of it always sparking my arousal. "How're you gonna get there, Chonne? Who's going with you?" He questions. Tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowing and focusing on my face. Sucking his pink lips between his teeth, he's awaiting my answer. I know why he's asking. The other day I went to help Francine move one of the cars used for extra protection around the gate, and well, I had some difficulty fitting my stomach behind the wheel. I see that Francine has shared this bit of information with my husband. Complicit, all of them.  
"I can drive myself over, and Carl can drive back, get some more driving practice in." I shrug and reason off the cuff, actually surprising myself with how quick I am with the Carl driving back part, figuring it will help ease my husband's protective concerns. "And, I think it's time to have a discussion with C-A-R-L about E-N-I-D anyway," I spell out, well aware of the little one that is always listening, and like a parrot, constantly repeating what they have heard.  
"Hm." He grunts, adding nothing more to the conversation.  
Finishing up Judith's hair, I place a tie at the end of her French braid, and kiss the top of her head. "Alright, baby girl, all done. Now you can go play."  
"Yay! I'm free!" she jumps down from her chair. Turning towards me, she jumps up on her tip toes, and throwing her arms around my waist, as far as my stomach will allow, places a loving peck to my tummy. "Bye, brothers!" She yells at my belly button. Raising her head and eyes upwards to me she demands "Kissy, Mama." Leaning over to her, Judith extends her diminutive hands up towards my face, commanding my affection. She puckers and lays the sweetest little kiss on my lips, then takes off upstairs, as fast as her tiny feet will allow.  
Chuckling at her antics, I shift to take a seat in Judith's now abandoned chair. Patting his lap Rick signals for me to take a seat there instead. Seated across his thighs, leaning into his solid chest, Rick has his arm around me, a handful of my ass in his right hand, firmly squeezing. With his left hand he offers me the last bite of the apple that he and Judith nearly devoured. Accepting the last of the apple, I snuggle further in to him. Slowly chewing, I'm enjoying my husband's attention, reveling in the unique masculine scent and feel of him. Though lean, Rick's muscled body is strong and firm, having endured and weathered the most dangerous of encounters, and I take comfort in both the protection and pleasure it provides.  
In the serene quiet that now blankets the room, my head laid against his shoulder, my fingers running through the thick curls at his nape, I'm taking the time to appreciate the profile of Rick's handsome face, his aquiline nose, and chiseled features. Given my relaxed mood, I'm slow to realize that he hasn't said much since I mentioned my excursion for today, which can go either way when it comes to him.  
"You don't have anything to say about my plans for the day? About me driving myself?" I ask with a hint of disbelief.  
Rick takes his time to answer me. Resting his head on his left hand, arm planted on the table, he maneuvers his head to make eye contact with me. With those clear as the ocean eyes locking on to mine, he questions, a hint of exasperation evident, "Would it matter if I did, Michonne?"  
"Maybe, depends on what you said, Rick," I tease on a small chuckle.  
"My wife, who is 6 months pregnant with my babies, is telling me that she's going to drive herself over to The Hilltop, alone. And that she may be home tonight or tomorrow, with our 17-year-old son driving her back. I got that right, Michonne?" Despite the coolness lacing his heavy southern drawl, I can sense that he's not really that calm about this at all. I know Rick. He's always telling me how much he knows me, but I know him too. I know that the man in front of me right now, hates not being in control, tries hard to maintain it when he can, and lets it go only when he must. Most importantly he called me Michonne, not Chonne, so I know for a fact he's not happy about this.  
"Yes, Rick. That's right." I reply, not backing down, knowing that if I give an inch he will take a mile.  
Stopping the rhythmic massage of my ass, never breaking eye contact with me, he rubs at his bearded chin with his left hand for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. His stroking is drawing my attention to his bearded cheeks. Nearing the end of my second trimester, my libido is increased, and among other things about Rick, I greatly adore that beard. How it frames his luscious lips, how rugged it makes his beautiful face, the exquisite sensation it causes when its between my breasts or thighs, abrading my sensitive neck. In a sudden but fluid motion, he unbuttons the top few buttons of my shirt, and places his warm palm to my sensitive breast, kneading and lightly thumbing my sensitive nipple. Sedated by the rhythmic caress of his calloused hand, he raises his head to mine and surprises me with wet, apple laced kisses to my lips. Plying them apart he's pushing his tongue into my mouth, tangling it with my own, stealing my breath. Growing hot all over, my other nipple is brushing painfully against my shirt, arousal causing me to squirm in his lap. Ending the kiss and pulling away from me before I'm ready, he leans back, licking at those perfect pink lips of his, never stopping his steady brush over my breast, he quietly murmurs in a deep rumble, "Ok. Have fun." Grinning mischievously, softness in his eyes, he adds, "You're as much in charge around here as I am, you don't need my permission. You've got things to do, and your boyfriend said as long as you have the energy to do it, it's ok. So, I'm ok."  
Rolling my eyes because I know when he says my boyfriend he's referring to my doctor, Corey, I move my head to allow myself to search his face for his angle, trying to focus through the excitement he has sparked in me. There has to be one, he's giving in too easily.  
Removing his hand from my breast, he remarks, "Just so you know though, if you show me how, I can do it for you. Twist your hair up." He makes a twirling gesture with his long index finger, making me laugh. "Soon you're not going to be able to get over to Hilltop for that anymore."  
"I know you can. I'll show you sometime." I agree, trying to calm myself and collect my thoughts, I also recognize the truth in his words, but also the pang of hurt it causes. Sasha used to help me with my hair, twisting and oiling my dreads. I used to wash and oil her hair in return. It was a luxury that being on the road never afforded, but at Alexandria we made time for it, using what products we could scavenge and find. It was also a time for us to do something that reminded us of the world before. Of a shared culture and sisterhood, that even two people who were strangers before, still had in common. My hair has not been properly twisted since Sasha was alive, and in a way I refused to bother until that bastard Negan paid for what he did. What he forced her to do. The war is over now though. Negan is dead. And heading into my last trimester, I know I need to begin preparing everything, for when I will need more help to care for not only the babies, and the rest of my family, but also for myself. So, when Bertie, a black female Hilltop resident, offered to twist my hair with an almond butter that she makes, I accepted.  
Running his gaze slowly from my face down to my stomach, laying his large rough hand there, long fingers splayed across it, he rubs the warmth from them slowly over my hard bump. Sensing the sudden tension set into his posture, he firmly asserts, "I trust you, and I know you will be careful. Take care of yourself, and our babies, please."  
"You know I will," I promise.  
"I know you will," He agrees, kisses my belly, and pats my hip to signal for me to rise from his lap. Both now standing he reaches his fingers towards me. Taking hold of my hand in his commanding grasp, we begin to walk towards the stairs when he abruptly stops, and turns to me. "It's hard for me sometimes, to let go. To have faith that you will come back to me, that this world won't try to take you. That you can take care of yourself, that you don't really need me to protect you. It doesn't stop my need to. To protect our family." He admits, patiently revealing his words with care, always trying so hard to communicate what he's feeling to me. Blue eyes focused intently on my own, I can sense the vulnerability there that he never wants anyone to see. As if somehow he will be punished for it, for being human, for having faults. I have heard from Maggie how Lori had a way of pushing him away, not allowing him to be anything but perfect, her love and affection so conditional, easily swayed by her fickle judgment. But that's not me, it never has been, and I won't let her memory ruin this moment for us. My love for this man is without limits or conditions, and I would never have him believe otherwise.  
"I do need you, Rick, and I need that from you, your protection." Looking away from me for a moment, as though he can no longer allow me to see him, I press my body, my stomach and breasts to him, to get his attention and remind him of what he has, what he will always have. Delicately I take his face in both of my hands, and kiss him, hard and with intent, allowing him to be enveloped by the certainty of my love for him. "Sometimes I feel the same when you are away, when you have to leave. Uncertain. Especially now when I'm so emotional all the time. When my own body is expanding, making me question my own ability to protect myself, our family. But, you always come back to me, and I trust that you always will. And I will always come back to you, Rick Grimes. Always."  
"Right." He clears his throat, "You're always right." He replies, and slightly tilts his head to the side as if escaping some hypnotic trance. Coming to some realization, he releases a slow breath, his chest bulking, easing his tension. Reaching up I smooth my fingers across his forehead, over his graying eyebrows, urging him to release his frown. Gradually his face relaxes, and my favorite smile, the one that animates all the lines of his face, graces me with its presence. Grabbing my hands, he places a kiss in the palm of each. "And," he says, his voice coming out in a sexy rasp, moving his hands over my swelling hips and ass, grabbing a handful in each, "You're expanding beautifully in all the right places, Chonne. Come on, let me help you get dressed."  
Sitting in Bertie's trailer after getting my hair washed, and now re-twisted, the experience is almost surreal, like so many are as we actively attempt to rebuild some semblance of civilization. This all feels like a regular Saturday back in Atlanta, in my old life. Sitting in a chair, taking part in the cherished, but easily forgotten tradition of allowing someone else to take care of me, to take care of my hair. Once again taking pleasure in time spent bonding with friends, with other women. Maggie is here laughing and joining in on the lively conversation, bit of gossip sprinkled here and there. Baby Hershel is quietly asleep in my lap, everything seems so perfect. But Sasha isn't here, and though neither Maggie nor I have mentioned her, her presence is so sorely missed, and never forgotten.  
"Twins. Wow. Leave it to you and Rick to have to outdo everyone and have twins." Maggie says, astonishment clearly in her voice. "I guess I shouldn't have expected any less from you overachievers, huh?"  
"It's not like we did it on purpose, at least I didn't."  
"Can Corey tell if they are identical or not?" Maggie asked.  
"No. Guess we'll find out soon, though. I've only got a few more months to go."  
"That Corey is a good looking man. Not a lot of those left." Bertie adds, working on the last few locs around my hairline. "I might need to find a reason to see the good doc myself."  
"He is good looking." Maggie agrees, nodding her head. "I'm surprised that Rick has let him near you."  
"Maggie!" I can't believe what I'm hearing. Since Glenn's death, I have never heard Maggie hint at even the slightest inclination of noticing another man. Not a peep.  
But, if I'm being honest, Corey is good looking. Very good looking. And God help me, but when Rick and I met him the first time I was a little stunned by him. He seemed to have dropped right out of a men's magazine. He easily ticked off every one of my past favorite male attributes: tall, dark, educated, nice teeth, good manners. It was kind of like waking from some awful dream to find that I'd been rewarded with this man for all of my dream-state suffering. My brain struggled with whether or not I was awake or not, if I was seeing a ghost. It's happened before. But no, this was real, and thankfully I gathered my wits about me, after probably allowing him to hold onto my hand for a second too long, to break free of the fog his presence had me in. But Rick had already taken notice of my response to Corey, hence the possessive posturing that followed.  
"What?" She quickly responds. "I'm not blind, Michonne. He's hot. Reminds of this guy who used to be an actor. What was his name?" Snapping her fingers, she's trying to remember, to jog her memory from the many years that have since gone by. "British guy, black…he was going to play James Bond, and then well, the world fell apart. Damn, y'all, what was his name?"  
"Idris Elba!" Bertie and I both say at the same time, laughing so loud poor Hershel opens his sleepy eyes a moment to warn us to quiet down. Rubbing his back in little circles, he's settling back down, snuggling as close as he can on my lap with my belly between us.  
"Yes! So handsome. I wonder if he's alive?" Maggie's Georgia accent trails off in remembrance, sending Bertie and I back into fits of laughter, incredulous at her wondering something so odd, yet so intriguing that now we're wondering too. I'm back to soothing Hershel again, trying to keep him from waking back up, and admonishing me with dark eyes so much like his father's.  
"Doesn't matter now I guess. We've still got Corey though," says Bertie whimsically. "And I think I'm catching a cold!" She fake coughs, threatening to send us all cracking up again. "I'm just joking, maybe." Pulling my dreads into a band, and piling them atop my head in a bun, she nudges me with her hip and continues with a hint of admiration in her voice. "You've got Rick though, girl. That man is nothing to sneeze at either. He's got that cowboy thing down, the swagger, boots and all."  
Not one to talk too much about my relationship with Rick, I nod my head, and catch Maggie giving me a mischievous little smile. She knows me well, and that while I'm usually reserved around strangers, my adoration for my Rick is both serious and real. While self preservation may keep me from exuberantly claiming him to anyone who will listen, there is no man, Idris Elba lookalike or not, that could come in between us. I don't want my hesitance to talk too much about Rick dampen the mood, so keeping with the light tone of the banter I nod and agree with Bertie's assessment, "That he is. Rick is handsome indeed."  
Patting my shoulder, Bertie draws my attention. "Alright, Michonne, you are done. Here is a little almond butter you can keep for your hair or skin. Your hair is growing fast, so you might want them twisted once more before the babies come."  
"Yes, thank you. And Corey gave me some coconut oil I've been using on my stomach and hair, so I guess I'm good for awhile now."  
"Oh he's giving you gifts, huh? Handsome and thoughtful. I definitely have a cold now!" Bertie laughs.  
"You didn't have to come get me, Mom. I could have made it back on my own you know."  
"I know. But, I had to get my hair done, and I wanted to see Maggie and baby Hershel while I've still got the energy. And, it allows me to spend some time with my favorite young man."  
"Mom, I thought Dad was your favorite man?" Carl looks away from the road and over my way momentarily, eyebrows furrowed over the same blues he shares with his father.  
"I said young, Carl." I tease, making eye contact and sharing a quiet laugh with my son from the passenger's seat.  
"Aw! I'm telling Dad you think he's old!" Carl snickers loudly. We both know that he won't tell Rick, but even if he does, Rick is well aware of the jokes Carl and I share about Rick's rapidly graying beard prematurely aging him.  
"No, no, no. I'm just kidding! And he's not old, he's, handsome, mature…distinguished. I love your dad's gray beard, very fond of it actually"  
"Gross, Mom. Just, blech!" He pretends to wretch, sending us both into raucous laughter at my poor husband's expense.  
Turning back to Carl, my eyes take in his profile, trying to get a look at him through the hair that he is insistent on keeping, probably to diminish the presence of the patch over his right eye. Determination and focus is set across his face as he steers the car on the deserted road, guiding us away from The Hilltop and back to Alexandria.  
"Easy on the gas, ok, slow down. So, did you have a good time hanging out with Enid?"  
Responding just like Rick would, a scarlet blush overtakes his handsome features at the mention of Enid. He is so much like his father, constantly struggling with a lot of the same things, some of the same vulnerabilities. Who he is, what this life makes him be, who he wants to be, and regardless of all that, who he is becoming. With them both there is a constant struggle between the light and the dark parts of being, surviving. But for Carl, attempting to find the proper balance, as he is swiftly becoming a man, is difficult.  
Carl is no longer that angst filled boy who met me at the fence, shaking his father out of his stupor to save me, and take out a few walkers on my behalf. No, this man beside me, sporting a few hairs on his chin and a smudge of them over his lip, is Carl, my son. But now his voice has deepened, and that angst has transformed him into a protector, a warrior, and like the rest of us, a killer.  
This realization is not something that crosses my mind lightly at all, and it has kept Rick and I up many a night talking and wondering what it all means for Carl's future. He was so young when everything fell apart, that he has very few memories of life before, and his appreciation for old world morality is nearly non-existent. On one hand it saddens us that the innocence of that kind of life is lost on him, but on the other we are abundantly proud and overwhelmed by how magnificent his instincts are to adapt and to survive. Without Carl's quick thinking, and nerves of steel, the confrontation with Negan at the gate could have gone drastically different. And at times, his capacity for brutality has given us pause. But together, we decided that what's most important about it is that it only manifests itself when he's threatened, or to protect those he loves, those who can't protect themselves. Maturity is what helps him understand the difference, and it's attributes like that, that separate the Carls from the Negans. It's also for these reasons, and many others, that we often forget he is only 17, and that there is still a lot of emotional and physical development to come.  
Breaking me away from my thoughts, Carl interrupts the silence, "Mom, can I ask you something?"  
"Anytime. What's up?" I ask, curious at the seriousness that has overtaken his laughter and mirth from before.  
"How did you know when you and my dad were ready to have sex with each other? When did you know you loved each other?" Always so direct and to the point, Carl's candidly asked questions cause me to completely freeze. I guess it's to be expected given his age, but I'm also unsure about how to proceed. Should I tell him to talk to Rick? Should I tell him to read a book about it? Send him over to the infirmary at The Kingdom to talk to a doctor? I've never been a teenaged boy, and frankly I'm a little afraid to hear the rest of this conversation.  
Unsure as I am of how to proceed, I do what I hate to do and answer his question with a question. "Why?"  
"Um, I just…I think I love her, and I get this feeling when I kiss her that I need something more, but I don't know what more is. She makes me excited, and I just, I want to be with her all the time. I know what sex is, I think. I mean, not the specifics I guess." Uncharacteristic uncertainty is coloring his words as he rambles on. Nervousness is oozing off of him as he continues to drive, looking straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. "I asked Glenn once before about sex, when I caught him and Maggie-"  
"Wait, what? You caught Glenn and Maggie doing what? When was this?"  
"At the prison I caught them in the guard tower, together. Glenn said they were just kissing or whatever, but he answered a few questions for me. About girls and kissing and stuff. I told him I wanted to kiss Beth," he pauses on a chuckle, giving me a tentative glance from under his ever present sheriff's hat. "He laughed at me though, told me I was too young for that, and that when I'm old enough and have met the right girl, I'll understand."  
Glenn. Though he is gone, he is always still with us, the specter of his goodness ever present. Having left such a huge impact on all of us, in so many ways, we find ourselves speaking about him, something he did, something he said, almost daily. That is one way we honor our fallen family members, Glenn, Sasha, Abraham, the never ending list, by never shying away from memories of them, speaking of them often.  
"I think I understand now, Mom. Dad and I had a talk about…" he pauses and clears his throat, "how guys have a penis, and girls have vaginas, but I don't really understand sex. And he has told me numerous times how much he loves you, respects you. How he knew he liked you at the prison, but he was still sad about my bio mom dying. How he fell in love with you on the road, but he's sometimes an idiot and it took him too long to tell you. But I don't know what any of that means for me, like for how I feel about Enid. And I love my dad, but I don't want to be an idiot."  
"Ok. Wow." I'm at a loss for words. Is any mother ever ready for this? Andre was so little when I lost him that this conversation, though inevitable, never crossed my mind. But here I am, my son being so honest and open with me, and eagerly awaiting my answer. And of course these little Rick Grimes revelations are interesting as well, but I will save those for later.  
Pulling up into the gates of Alexandria, Carl turns off the car and turns to me, obviously invested in and hungry for my feedback.  
"Well, Carl," I haltingly begin, "I love your father, too. And I guess I knew that I wanted to be intimate with him, that I loved him in that way, when we got to Alexandria, and I had a moment to catch my breath. To really sit back and think about what I like about him, why I like those things, and if I thought he would be worth taking a chance, making a conscious choice that he is who I choose. Ultimately that answer was yes, I chose him, I just didn't want to be without him. We had other options, but we chose each other in the end. But you know, grown ups, we had so much other baggage, Carl. It's hard to use me and your dad as any kind of example."  
"No, Mom, you guys are the example. I want that. Like that goofy smile my dad always has when he looks at you? Everyone sees it. You guys just make sense. How you care for Dad, how you look back at him, how you see him. That." His voice is now slightly elevated in his excitement. Looking down at his hands for a moment, he continues in a softer voice, "She likes me, Mom. Just like I am, and I don't have to apologize or explain myself to her. She gets me, cause she's like me. She's been out there, she's a survivor, a fighter, she's one of us. I think…when she looks at me, I just feel like she sees who I am and she's ok with that. She likes me, she chose me."  
There is that vulnerability he shares with his father. All of the things he just said about Enid are probably true, but part of it, the part that my sweet son is missing is that, there just aren't many other girls his age to even have this experience with, to choose from. I guess I think of that in this moment to connect in my brain that, it's good that Carl and Enid have found each other in all of this, but it's also kind of sad that they only have each other in all of this. That circumstance is shaping their preferences, instead of them being able to truly choose what their souls need. I hope that eventually this world will allow that for each of them, will give them the freedom to find their soulmates. But maybe they already have.  
"Carl, if you feel that strongly about Enid, if you also choose her to share something so serious as a sexual experience with her, then you need to talk to her about it. Don't be an idiot and not have the courage to say something before some other guy does." Suddenly feeling the dull sting of an uncomfortable jab to my bladder, I place my hands on my stomach, hoping to settle my boys down. My movements draw Carl's attention to my stomach, and I am reminded of another important point to make. "Whatever you decide, and whomever you decide it with, be safe. The world has changed a lot, but one thing remains certain. Sex usually leads to babies. So unless you are ready for this," I say, nodding down towards my substantial stomach, "Be safe."  
"I'm not ready for that, at all." He's says, adamant in his admission. "I'm going to talk to Enid, soon." He decides. "Thanks for the advice. For not talking to me like I'm a kid."  
"I know you're not a kid anymore, Carl. That's why I don't want you to make a grown up decision, like a kid would. You're a wonderful young man, and Enid, or any woman would be grateful to have you." I offer in all seriousness, leaning over to embrace my son.  
Hugging me back tightly, Carl responds, "Here comes Dad and Judith."  
My car door opens, and Rick reaches his hand inside to help me out of the car.  
"Welcome back, beautiful." Rick says, assisting me as I try to balance myself and move away from the car.  
"Mommy, you brought Carl!" Judith exclaims, running full speed to her brother, jumping into his waiting arms.  
"Hey, Judes! I was only gone for two days."  
Lip poked out, Judith pouts, "It was a long time."  
Laughing, happy to be together, our family begins the short walk to our house.  
Head bent forward, crossed legged on the living room floor, between Rick's legs, I'm enjoying the firm massage he's gifting to my shoulders, kneading my muscles. Moaning in satisfaction and contentment, my eyes lazily droop towards sleep.  
Breaking through my impending doze, Rick asks, "So, did you have your talk with C-A-R-L about E-N-I-D?"  
I laugh at him spelling it out even though Judith and Carl have long gone to bed. It's just us now, Rick enjoying a beer from the most recent batch that he and Daryl have been brewing.  
"Yes, I did. It was a good talk. Apparently he and Enid are pretty serious, thinking about having sex."  
Immediately stopping his ministrations, Rick is apparently stunned. "Huh. And what did you tell him?"  
"Just that he should talk to Enid about that. You know, Rick, it's a little sad that neither of them have had too much opportunity to know other kids their age. They really don't have a lot of options. I don't know that it's a bad thing, it's just so different from before."  
"I knew this was coming. I was about his age when I lost my virginity. It was bound to happen. You gave him good advice, Mama. They will find their way together, maybe not forever, but for now." He pauses, then continues. "Thank you for talking to him about it. I don't always know how to do that, how to connect with him on certain things."  
Letting his statement settle between us, giving it some thought I respond, "You're welcome. We're a team, it's what we do, right?"  
"Indeed," he responds. Placing a few soft kisses to the back of my neck his voice grows lighter. "Did I tell you how much I like your hair up like this? It makes it easier for me to get to your neck. I will have to thank Bertie."  
Smiling from the compliment and his adoring affection, I respond. "It was nice to spend some time with her and Maggie, and Hershel. It was just another thing that felt so normal again, old world normal. I like Bertie, she reminds me of friends I had before, it was nice, familiar."  
"Is that why you and Corey get along so well? The same familiarity?" he questions, the mood becoming more serious.  
"Maybe, that could be part of it." I admit, growing somewhat uncomfortable with the direction this is taking, but realizing it's probably time for us to have this discussion. "Maybe it's why you liked Jessie as well?"  
Discomfort is clouding the room now. I turn my body towards Rick, but back away some, putting distance between us. Tucking my legs beneath me, steeling myself, my emotions, from whatever his response may be. But he doesn't respond immediately. He leans back on the couch, now nervously running his palms across his jean clad thighs.  
Clarifying my question, hoping to prod him to answer, I proceed through his silence, "I understand, Rick. Whatever you say here isn't wrong, I understand."  
"When we got here, to Alexandria, the way things were, was…confusing for me. It was like stepping back in time, or waking from a dream." He says, echoing a sentiment I also had when I met Corey. Halting to let that sink in, he nervously continues. "We were at Deanna's party, and it was like before. She was like before. It was almost like I had a chance to forget everything that happened since I woke from that coma." His words sting a little, recognizing that I would be one of the things that would have been forgotten. Not recognizing the agonizing effect his words had on me, he continues. "Then it just kind of got out of control. And she needed me. To protect her, her kids. I guess that spoke to me, who I was, a cop, a protector." Leaning towards me, elbows on his thighs, "But of course there you were, my Michonne, to really wake me up. To show me what was real. Honestly, I didn't think that you really knew about all of that mess. How fractured my mind was then." Hanging his head, as if ashamed, he's slowly running his hands back through his hair.  
Controlling my emotions with deep meditative breaths, in and out, I can't say anything just yet. Confirming most of what I already knew, and some of which I didn't, my first inclination is to withdraw from this conversation, to just head up for bed. But, as I continue to center myself to think this through, my desire to be fully honest with Rick supersedes my need to protect my feelings from his admission.  
"Yes, I knew about Jessie, and it hurt me, Rick. It's hard for me to admit that. Very hard." I have to stop, take a moment to focus. The dull ache in my chest is pushing me to retreat, but my head, logic, is pushing me forward. Even carrying the reminder of Rick heavy in my swollen stomach, my instinct is to pull away from him right now. "Since the prison I thought we had a connection, an understanding. When we got here, and you started chasing after that woman, I felt ashamed and foolish, stupid that I had read it all wrong. It was obvious that you hadn't chosen me. I was so optimistic that once we had a time and a place to settle, to get our bearings, that you would."  
"Chonne-" He pleads, my name falling off his lips in desperation to stop my confession. But I stop him.  
Shaking my head I tell him, certainty in my voice, "No, Rick. Let me finish. I guess the reason I pushed Carl to talk to Enid is because you didn't talk to me. I was trying to adjust when we got here too, Rick. I wanted this, I wanted a real chance, a life, but I wanted it with you. But, you not talking to me, withdrawing from me, let me know that everything I thought I knew about you, the connection I thought we had, it was all about proximity, circumstance." Feeling myself getting amped up, my emotions are running high now. Everything is spilling out, every admission of vulnerability, and bitterness is showing its ugly head, and I can't stop it. "I've never been a woman that couldn't have any man she wanted, and I wanted you. When I couldn't have you, I wasn't going to wallow in that, I just moved on."  
"Wait! Just stop for a minute, please." Rick commands, raising his voice in frustration. Licking his tongue across his lips, brows furrowed, he seems to be trying to put together what I'm telling him. "What are you saying? That's not what happened, I never meant to hurt you. I would never do that, you know that!"  
I'm ignoring his adamant profession now. I know he wouldn't hurt me on purpose, but he did. "Scott and I were close for awhile. Being totally honest, he and I probably gravitated to each other for the same reason you went after Jessie. Like Corey, Scott is…familiar. He was familiar, the kind of man I would have gone for. He reminded me of Mike, they both do. But there was no real emotion there. If it didn't work out, I would be fine. He couldn't hurt me like you did, I wouldn't let him. But it felt good to be desired again."  
"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Michonne, this is… Gotdamn it!" His voice is angry now, defensive. He is leaning back on the couch again, arms crossed over his chest. Clenching his jaw, his eyes closed, I can almost see the steam coming off him. Launching from the couch into a pace that sends him back and forth in front of me, struggling with my confession. "You were going to leave me. To move out? Leave us, me, Carl, Judith?" He asks, finally putting it all together, his realization draped in anguish.  
"Scott and I talked about it. I thought about it. But, as you know, Rick, obviously Scott and I did not work out, and I didn't move. We tried, we liked each other, but you barged back into my heart and took over. I don't say that to make you jealous, it's just true. He wasn't you and that's probably why it never would have worked for us. My heart was set on you, it still is. But, I realized today, talking to Bertie and Maggie, that I often feel reluctant to talk about you to others, to as you put it 'claim' this thing between us, because I don't want to wake from this dream again, Rick. To wake up and you're not there. But I'm also afraid to get too used to being in this dream with you again. God I hate this!" I yell, but in a soft tone, as I don't want to wake the kids. I don't want them to see me like this, so on edge, my emotions so raw and open.  
"Go on." Rick prods, nodding his head down towards me, his right eyebrow raised. I guess he can tell that I'm not entirely done, that there is more to this cathartic rant I'm on.  
"Sometimes I feel like if I'm too happy, too outwardly happy, fate will steal it all away again. Mike and I were so happy, we had Andre, we were a family. Then it was cruelly snatched, just taken from me. Andrea was my friend, taken from me. You were my friend, you and Carl and Judith were my family. Everyone could see it. And you left me alone to figure this out by myself. I don't know if I can survive that again. I told you before, I can't lose you. So, maybe it doesn't make sense, and I'm sorry if it hurts you, my hesitance, but I have to take care of me, Rick. At the end I might be all I have." Completely spent, I have nothing left but tears that drop from my eyes in fat bulbs, leaving a trail down my face. I'm furiously rubbing at my cheeks, trying my best to hide them from him, hoping that the low lighting in the room will offer me some cover.  
"Please, baby, stop. Just stop, come here." Taking a seat on the couch in front of me again, he beckons me to come closer to him, reaching his arms out to me. But I won't budge. I can't. Silence engulfs the room, and I don't move. Dropping his arms to his lap, he gives up. "I have loved you for so long. I would be so excited when you would return to the prison, and so devastated when you would leave. Those feelings were constantly at war with my grief over Lori dying, and the demise of our marriage. Then on the road we just needed to survive. When we got here it was just crazy. I don't know how else to put it. I was crazy. Now to hear this. That you were comforted by another man, that I almost lost you..." Hands over his heart, his blue eyes have transformed to a stormy grey, clouded with the depth of his emotion. "It should have been me comforting you, helping you adjust. I'm sorry it wasn't. But, for the rest of my life it will be. At the end you have me. I promise. Let's be in this dream together, baby, please. I'm in way too deep to wake up, I don't want to wake up either. I won't. Say you won't."  
"Rick."  
"Say you won't, Chonne. Whatever happened between you and Scott, I don't want to know too much, I don't care. If he made you happy, I should thank him, but I can't. I want to be, I have to be the man who makes you happy. I want every one of your smiles for myself. I'm greedy, and I don't apologize for that." Smiling sadly, eyes intensely focused on me, making me feel as though he can see the pain he caused swirling around my heart, breaking it into pieces.  
"I promise to you, Chonne, nothing more than an uncomfortable peck on the lips happened with Jessie. She did not make me happy. I never left you, I'm here, I choose you, and I hope you continue to choose me. Say you won't leave me in this dream without you." His eyes are as glassy as mine are now, breathing deep I can sense the regret coming off him in waves. I know hearing about Scott would hurt him, but I think a part of me wanted it to, for him to hurt like I hurt when I found out about Jessie.  
The room is once again silent, and my inability to answer him, to give him what he's asked for weighs heavy on us both. Depleted, my head feels heavy, my heart is overcome. Attempting to rise from the floor, Rick rushes from the couch over to me, to help me up.  
"Chonne, what are you doing? Let me help you." He says, exasperation in his voice. Grabbing on to my hand and elbow, he hoists me from the floor. Now standing in front of each other, I don't know what to say, or do. I can't walk away from him, weariness keeps me planted where I stand.  
"I'm tired, Rick."  
Slowly lowering his forehead to mine, his handsome face is red, flushed, eyelashes spiky with his tears, and his hair is disheveled from constantly running his hands through it. He takes my left hand and kisses the knuckle of my ring finger. Turning my hand over to also kiss my palm, he then places it over his heart. Closing his eyes as if gathering his thoughts, he proceeds. "In my heart, my soul, you are already my wife, my soul mate, my absolute everything. I am imperfect, and I've told you before I have so much to make up for with you, to deserve you. And I won't give up. But there will never be another man for you, ever. My soul belongs to you. There is no woman who could ever take my Michonne's place in my heart, it's impossible. Let's stay in this dream together, baby. Forever." He whispers, hope and love warming his breath that covers my lips. Tears once again are falling from his face, landing on my cheeks to mingle with my own.  
His earnestness and honesty touches me somewhere deep. In the place that knows that Rick would never hurt me on purpose. That he is my soul mate, the love of my life, and that we have to move on, together. "I will. Forever." I promise. And I mean it. It comes from the part of my heart that only Rick Grimes has ever touched, that belongs to him.  
Dropping my hand, he raises both of his and grasps me behind my neck, wiping away the wetness from my face with his thumbs. Fervently he searches my face to confirm the certainty in my promise. Seeing the truth of my feelings for him, the vulnerability in its depth, he kisses me everywhere, my neck, my cheeks, my nose, finally settling on my lips. There is so much strength and love in his kiss, in the plush firmness of his blush colored lips, that my body and resolve soften to him. I wrap my arms around him, returning his embrace, using my body to confirm my pledge to him.  
"Thank you." He gasps, relief evident, my assent relinquishing the stifling hold that my confession held around his heart. Our promise of forever strengthening our ever growing bond. Whispering into my hair, inhaling me, Rick continues, "Let me just hold you for a moment. Give me a moment." He asks, emotion straining his words.  
"I'll give you forever." I promise again, and I mean it.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

8/9 mos.  
"Look at you… Gotdamn, Chonne, you are so fucking beautiful, and nasty! Mmmmm…" I gasp, admiring the indulgent sight of my lover, my wife.  
"You like that, Deputy?"  
"Fuck! Yes, I love that shit, baby." I growl, voice dripping with hints of pleasure and pain.  
Reclined on the living room couch, shirtless, pants around my ankles, I'm watching my wife's plump lips and wet mouth, suck and swallow my entire cock down her throat. I'm sweating profusely, head pounding. It's not from the smothering density of this hot summer day in Virginia. No. It's from my wife. This otherworldly sex goddess kneeling in between my widespread legs, is completely commanding me with her naughty mouth, the snug twist of her fists around my dick, and the twirl of her tongue bathing the tip. She owns me, every part of me. For the past few weeks her libido has heightened to a peak that even I am finding hard to keep up with. God knows I'm enjoying every moment of trying, and as a result she has incited a surge of virility in me that I wasn't aware that a man in his 40s could possess.  
Looking up at me, her large dark eyes are seducing me just as much as her mouth is. The shadow of her feathery eyelashes circling those deep pools make her appear innocent, coy and gentle, but right now she's anything but. With her voluminous dusky locs thrown over to one side, sweeping over her delicate shoulder, and cascading down her breasts, I'm truly hypnotized. What began as an innocent afternoon of reading through a baby name book, preparing for the imminent arrival of our boys, who are still nameless, quickly turned into Michonne trying to convince me to accept a truly heinous name like Mathias, using mostly her mouth as her means of persuasion. Right now, as she's moving lower to lick from my balls to the tip of my shaft, I've forgotten my own name, and would easily allow her to call me Mathias, that's how exquisite the torture is.  
I'm sucking in air in thin quick pants, attempting to prolong the decadence of her oral exploration, not wanting to cum too quickly. But, she knows what I like, and as soon as my dick is released from her lips, dripping with her saliva from the slow pull of her lascivious mouth, I know she's in a teasing mood, and I'm done for. Now sitting up, a frown quickly covers my face, evidencing my displeasure at her stopping.  
Never breaking eye contact, she demurely rubs her elegant fingers over her lips. "Have I been bad, Deputy? Should you punish me for stopping?" She asks in the sweetest, most innocent voice, dripping with the carnal knowledge that I love this. The naughty games she plays. I love this sexy, nasty, playful, powerful goddess. How she provokes me, commands my moods, my body, my mind.  
Puckering her mouth in a juicy wet pout, she lowers her head again, but not to my cock. Licking up my left thigh, nuzzling her face into my pubic hair, I can hear her moans of pleasure as she saturates my groin with the wetness of her tongue, seductive little nibbles, and then the feeling of tight suction to my inner thigh. I can smell her arousal. Keen familiarity with my Michonne lets me know that she is as turned on by giving me head, as I am to receive it. I know she's dripping wet right now, and the thought has my cock painfully erect, nudging my abdomen, red and swollen with need for her. Weeping tiny pearlescent drops of pre-cum, my cock is poised for her greedy mouth to feast on me again, and finish me off.  
Lazily running up from my groin and down my chest, the light fairy like touch of her fingers flutters through the thickness of my pubic hair and the sprinkle of hair on my chest, leaving behind a soft tickling sensation. Tightly wound with arousal, needing some relief, I grab my cock at the base with my right hand, attempting to relieve some of the excitement she's inciting in me.  
Reaching out towards her with my left hand I gather a handful of her locs that have fallen over her face, into her eyes, and gently raise her head from my lap. Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, defiance in her eyes, she teases me again, "Is there a problem, Deputy?"  
Slowly shaking my head, unable to speak, I move my cock to her plush lips, and rub my arousal across them, leaving behind the sticky evidence of how far her titillation has gone. The sight of which threatens to force my immediate climax, the contrast exciting me immensely. But, I'm holding back. If she will let me, I want to come in her mouth, bathe her throat with my essence. Mark her with my scent.  
"Mmmm. Thank you, Deputy." She moans in appreciation, closing her eyes to me, and laving the fluid from her lips. Slowly she parts her lips, and again takes me deep into the back of her mouth, where I can feel the contractions of her throat over my tip. Still firmly grasping a handful of her locs, I'm greedily guiding her mouth up and down, the suction of which is sending dazzling heat from my groin to my limbs. Blinding pleasure is now soothing the pounding in my head, but the pace of my breathing is swift, swelling and caving my chest. Head bowed, hair plastered to my forehead, sweat is covering my brow, racing down my face in salty rivulets. Wrapping her lips around her teeth, I can feel her gorging on my cock, succulent lips pulling my climax from me.  
The vibrations of her aroused moans are creating an exquisite sensation in me, causing me to bite down painfully on my bottom lip at the feel of my impending climax. Attempting to warn her, I try to pull her head from me as gently as I can to give her an opportunity to move away if she chooses, but she firmly grasps my cock with her delicate hand, holding me to the cavern of her mouth, accepting my eruption onto her tongue. Magnificent spasms inflame my whole body, the tiny death approaching. I collapse back onto the couch, arms falling limply to my side, spent. Michonne is still moaning, humming around my jerking cock, and greedily swallowing the last spurts of my life force. She has taken everything from me, and left me wallowing in a mesmerizing glow that cocoons me in her love and affection.  
Though her abdomen is weighted and swollen with my babies, my boys, her gorgeous rounded body rises from her knees gracefully with cat like slinkiness, to mount herself on top of me. Straddling my legs with her own, she braces herself on my chest with her hands. Pulled from a sex-weakened state, my eyes hungrily drink her in. The naughty grin to her perfect lush lips. The cloak like drape of her long dreads around her, flowing over her cantaloupe sized breasts, stopping near the top of her stomach. The ends of her hair brush the once tiny curve of her waist, that now bumps out to widened hips, dropping to an even fuller bottom. Lowering my eyes further, I see that her thatch of pubic hair obscures her wetness from my gaze, but I can feel its slick stickiness on my abdomen. Forcing my stare back up to make contact with her dark eyes, they are narrowed and focused on me. Voyeuristically watching me watch her.  
With my left hand, I plant my fingers in the folds of her womanhood, caressing her nub with her own slickness. Leaning up to cup the back of her neck with my right, I lick my lips and attempt to compose myself. Moving her hair aside, I'm stroking the side of her neck with my thumb, savoring the softness found there. The first time we were together, I was amazed by how velvety smooth this fierce warrior woman's skin was. It was at such odds with how dangerous and deadly I had witnessed her be. The contrast is still mind-blowing.  
Increasing the friction of my left hand, I push two fingers into her, finding her feverishly heated. She's so sensitive to my touch, that she has already begun quietly moaning, panting at the pleasurable fire I'm inciting her.  
"Riiiicccck…"  
"Yes, Counselor?" I answer her, continuing her game, taking joy in watching her fall apart in my hand. Thrusting my fingers at a quicker pace, adding another to open her further, take hold of more of her. I'm reaching for that part of her that I know will provoke her further. I add pressure to her clit with my thumb, and watch her completely fall apart on my lap. Blessing my thighs and groin with her essence.  
Licking the sticky sweetness of Michonne from my drenched fingers, I lean back in satisfaction on the couch. Watching her beautiful features animated by her climax, then relax in repose, because of me, is one of my favorite things. A thrill unlike anything else, ever. All of it just feeds my addiction to her though. The thirst to watch her, be with her, possess all of her bountiful gifts. While I may not deserve her, the happiness, the joy, the hope she gives me, I wasn't lying when I told her before that I'm greedy when it comes to her.  
For some reason this treacherous world, the universe with its macabre sense of humor, killed off at least half of humanity, and gifted me with an angel. I need her, can't breathe without her, and whatever it takes for the universe to continue to let me have her I'm willing to do it. Her love saturates every fiber of my being, giving inspiration to my obsession with her, my desire to feast on any and all pieces of her. I'm certain this addiction will drive me mad, but I don't care.  
Grazing her fingers softly across her stomach, I place my own hands there as well, interlocking our fingers over her popped belly button. "Any day now, Chonne. We'll meet our boys any day now." I declare, excitement and anticipation lacing my words.  
"I know, and I'm ready. It's so hot, Rick, I need these boys to come on out and give me some relief! This heat is too much for three people in one body!" She exclaims, quiet desperation evident in her voice, but still laughing a little at the thought. "I'm just ready to meet them." She offers, now with a content smile.  
"Yeah, me too. And even though you just put on a hell of a show, Counselor, you're still not naming either of my sons Mathias." Smirking, I give her ass a light smack.  
"Rick!"  
Her weak protest is cut short by a knock at the door. Gently helping her to her feet, and I wearily stand and pull up my pants. Gathering her clothes from the couch, she turns and waddles, completely naked towards the stairs. Pausing as I walk over to the front door, I glance at her full bottom as she leaves the room, enjoying the pendulum like sway of her hips. Interrupting my lustful gaze, she yells over her shoulder, "This isn't over, Deputy." I laugh allowing her time to get up the stairs before I open the door.  
"Hey, did you forget about that thing from Eugene you were supposed to come look at before I left?" Daryl asks as he rushes through the door, barely giving me a chance to register who it is.  
"Damn. Yeah I did. Chonne had me distracted going through baby names. Come in, let me grab a shirt and then we can go." Rubbing my hand over my face, remembering I had something to do today and clearly allowed myself to get distracted.  
"Right." He says, disbelief clear in his tone. "Anyway, I'm heading back over to The Sanctuary, so if these don't work I just need to know so I can take them back to him. He's got more."  
"No problem. Chonne! I'm leaving." I walk over and holler up the stairs, hurriedly throwing my t shirt that I retrieved from the couch over my head.  
Descending from the stairs in a billowy yellow sundress that stops above her knees, Michonne breezes into the living room. "Hey, Daryl," greeting Daryl with a hug, she turns to me. "Judith should be up from her nap soon, I'm taking her over to the lake to swim. Are you coming?"  
"I'll meet you over there later, I gotta check out something with Daryl real quick. Make sure someone goes with you guys, to keep watch." I remind her. Since her seventh month, she has been unable to use her katana. Her balance is a little off due to the size of her stomach, and it just seemed like a good idea to retire it back to the mantle above the fireplace for now. Though she still carries a gun, I feel better when there is someone else with her when she's outside the gates. I don't want to smother her, or make her think I don't have confidence that she can take care of herself, but if I can't be there to protect her and the babies, then someone needs to be. It's a precaution that is probably more for my sanity than hers.  
Carl has been doing a good job of being around more lately to help me out with that, protecting her while she still handles her diplomatic duties with the other communities. Also stepping up to help Michonne with what she calls her "nesting" stage of preparation for the boys' arrival, he and I have also been going on runs to gather things for the babies. Last month we found a baby store, and brought back everything from cribs and bottles, to toys and clothes. We pretty much took everything the truck could hold because Alexandria is growing and more babies than our own are on the way. Though they have been able to keep it fairly secret, Daryl and Rosita are expecting in about 4 months' time. I suppose we are all doing our part to repopulate the earth.  
"Of course I will. Carl is coming, and I think a few others are as well. We're all trying to beat this heat and not stress the power grid with the AC too much."  
"You use it if you need to, Mama. I dare someone to say something about it." I snarl, agitated at the thought that she might consider not using it because of what some idiot thinks.  
"I'm making do, Rick. It's ok," she rubs my arm, soothes my irritation at the thought of someone saying something to her about using the air to cool off. If anyone needs it she does, and I won't tolerate anyone making her feel bad about it.  
"Daryl, think Rosita will come? Or are you guys still trying to hold on to that already leaked secret?" Michonne asks, a smirk to her beautifully full lips, amusement in her eyes.  
"I don't know, have to ask her. She's moody as hell today. And as far as any babies that may or may not be on the way, I'm not the one to leak that secret." He mumbles, as is customary for Daryl.  
"I'll stop by and see if I can get her out of the house. Ok, see you guys later."  
"See you later." I give Michonne a kiss on the cheek, hugging her body close to me with one arm, and rubbing her stomach with the other. Finding it hard to leave the bubble of her affection, she pulls away from me first, breaking the spell, and I reluctantly follow Daryl out of the house.  
Walking down the steps of my house, Daryl and I immediately encounter Michonne's doctor, Corey. While I don't hate this guy as much as I did when we first met, I'm still not a big fan. I recognized that Michonne was attracted to him, and she so much as admitted it to me. Maybe not in those exact words, but I understood what she was saying, calling him "familiar". And I can tell for certain he is attracted to her. No question.  
Everything inside of me, all of my instincts and insecurities make me want to hate him, but after he moved here from The Kingdom last week just to be here for when Michonne goes into labor, I at least have to grudgingly admit he's not that bad. Since I made it clear to him that she and I are married, his flirtations have ceased, and for that I'm grateful. I'm trying to curb my first instinct a little, which is always to fight, quick to anger, and practice a little more patience, diplomacy. Corey doesn't realize it though, or maybe he does, but he was very close to seeing my first instinct and getting his teeth knocked out every time he smiled at my wife.  
Approaching, Corey gives a polite smile and waves. "Hello, Rick."  
"Hey. Corey, this is Daryl. Daryl, this is Corey, Chonne's doctor." I introduce them.  
"What's up?" Daryl replies, offering his hand to shake.  
"Nice to meet you. I have some vitamins here for Michonne. Is she home?" He gestures his hand to my house behind me.  
"She is, but you can give them to me. I'll make sure she gets them." I assure him. Not that I don't trust Michonne, but I don't want this guy in my house when I'm not home.  
"Alright." He says, eyes moving between Daryl and I, reluctantly assenting to my demand. Handing the bottle over to me, he continues. "Well, I will get going. Since I'm here you can spread the word that I will be the full time doc now. Rosita at the infirmary asked me to stay, she said there are more babies being born here. So, I guess we'll all be seeing more of each other?"  
"Oh yeah? She said that?" Daryl asks, frowning, obviously confused by Rosita's vague admission to Corey.  
"Yeah. She did. She looks to be expecting herself, so I guess I'm right on time."  
Seeing Daryl is now looking away towards the infirmary, lost in thought, I pick up the conversation. "Ok, I will let folks know. See you later." I nod to Corey. "Come on, Daryl." Patting Daryl on the back to get his attention, we begin walking away.  
"It's interesting she told him that, let her see she's pregnant. I guess it's a good sign. She needs to see a doctor. I already told her that."  
"Yeah, and he's alright I suppose. Helpful with the baby stuff. Hopefully we'll get a positive outcome with him here. He did have a little crush or something on Chonne. I didn't like that, but we have an understanding." I grouse, remembering how flirtatious he previously was with my wife.  
"Who doesn't though?" Daryl questions, frowning in confusion.  
"Who doesn't what? Have a crush on her?" I ask, definitely interested in the direction this conversation is headed.  
"Shit, her and Scott used to be together. I reckon he still has a thing for her, that's pretty obvious with how much he hates you. Abe tried to holler at her at Deana's party. When she and I were looking for the Governor, I took my shot. She's beautiful and badass, why wouldn't guys be into her?" He admits, glancing over at me.  
Stopping in the middle of the street, mid-stride, hands on my hips, I'm speechless. Not only did Daryl apparently know about Michonne and Scott, but he and Abe both tried to get at her. At my Michonne. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Abe, you? I thought you were my friend, my brother? And you knew about her and Scott but never said anything to me about it? That's…fucked up."  
"Nah. I don't see it that way." He replies. Crossing his arms across his chest. "The way I see it, y'all weren't together until you were actually together, so why wouldn't I want her for myself? You ever met another chick like her? Pretty and can kick ass like that? And, again when she was with Scott y'all weren't together, and she was happy. Really happy. She deserved that. We all did." Gesturing to me, he continues. "Matter of fact when you were chasing after Jessie and plotting to take this place, no one said anything to you about that either. We were all just trying to figure shit out. What Michonne was up to wasn't your business then anyway." He reasoned. Finally done with what he has to say, he turns and starts walking towards the gate where his motorcycle is parked, waiting for his trip to The Sanctuary to see Eugene.  
Commencing my walk, allowing what Daryl said to sink in past the layers of anger, I'm again confronted with my own shit. The truth in his words stings. The reason Daryl even had an opportunity to be out looking for the Governor with her was because I was struggling with Lori dying, seeing shit, going crazy, withdrawing from everything. Abe came at her at that party because I was off with Jessie, and she was with Scott because I was again, losing my damn mind. Grudgingly I have to admit that Daryl is right, but it burns me up to do that. To be confronted with how often I have failed her. Failed to be the man she deserves. I know I have told her a million times that I have a lot to make up for, that I am going to be that man, but it's still tough to hear about it from others. To see it from their perspective.  
After Michonne admitted to me a few months back that she knew about the Jessie thing, and that she was with Scott, it all hit me like a ton of bricks. Looking at my woman, tears in her eyes, admitting that I hurt her, and that another man was there for her, was making her happy, I felt like a building had landed on me. I could barely breathe, focus. It was difficult to see what I had done to her, to own up to it. It took every thing in me not to go look for Scott and kill him. Everything. To think that he had the audacity to know her, maybe carnally, was unbearable. That he had touched that smooth, ebony skin that I adored, had felt her delicate fingers on his body. Anger festers in me every time I think about it.  
In my mind, Michonne has always been mine. Always. That day at the fence, so alluring and gorgeous, almost in a heavenly sense, I couldn't tell if she was real or not. An angel? A goddess? I wanted her to be real, to touch her, but my mind was already messed up, fractured. Seeing her standing there, those bold, mysterious eyes hooked me, and from then on, she was mine. I was hers. Maybe neither of us could vocalize or meaningfully move on it, but it was the truth.  
Catching up with Daryl at his bike, ruminating on my missteps, he held out a little velvet pouch to me. "Listen, man, what you're doing now, making a life with Michonne, having babies, planning this thing for her. It's good, man. Scott, Corey, Abe, me, doesn't matter. She loves you."  
"I know you're right. Shit just reminds me how much I fucked up with her." I admit, the ache of regret heavy in my heart. "Anyway, let me see what Eugene has." I say, opening the pouch to find seven or so rings, some plain bands, some adorned with diamonds or other gems. Browsing over them I instantly see the one that is perfect for Michonne. It's a good size, dark green emerald, set on a gold band, with two smaller square emeralds on the side of it. The band is covered in small diamonds.  
I don't know much about rings or jewelry. Lori's ring was a rather basic one that my mother picked out, something I could afford on a new deputy's salary. But this one is something like you would have seen in a fairytale, Arabian Nights, or as a part of a pirate's treasure. It feels like it's majesty represents all of the beloved and remarkable qualities she also possesses. Unique, eye catching, beautiful, valuable. I realize that she might not wear it much, or at all, but I want her to have it. I want to give her something that symbolizes my commitment to her, my devotion and love. And selfishly, I want something that shows we belong to each other. Like the "M" she wears around her neck, a gift she said she got from her mother when she found out she was pregnant with Andre, I want this ring to be equally associated with her. With the bond between her and I.  
Determination has me focused on not just telling her how much I love and adore her, but showing her as well. Hence the ring. And another surprise that Gabriel and I have been working on.  
"This is the one for her. And any of those bands will do for me, whichever fits." I say confidently, easily making up my mind and placing the rings in my jeans pocket. My mood is changing now, I'm feeling more optimistic having found something so perfect for her. It's also got me eager to touch base with Gabriel to make sure the other surprise is working out.  
"Good choice. Alright, man, I'm gone. See ya!" Daryl climbs on his bike and rides off through the gate, heading to The Sanctuary to meet with Eugene. Eugene no longer lives at Alexandria, and frankly given past events, a lot of folks were not comfortable with him coming back. In the end we found out he was pretty much sabotaging Negan from the inside to help us and the other communities, but it was still hard for some to forget his cowardice and the role it played in the war. At the end of the day, when Negan was killed, and Dwight was as well, Eugene felt like as good a choice as we could find to lead The Sanctuary. To help keep him in check, Daryl is assigned to him as an ambassador of sorts, and pretty much keeps oversight on what's happening over there. So far it's an arrangement that seems to work for everyone.  
Walking through the doors of the church, I find Father Gabriel in a pew with his head down, devotedly whispering in prayer. Taking a seat near the back of the church, so as not to disturb him, I take the ring for Michonne from my pocket to admire it while I wait. Grasping it between my index finger and thumb, the light from the church's windows hit the diamonds on the band in a way that the luminescence gives off the effect of a halo. A small laugh escapes me as I think of how appropriate that this ring, with its halo of diamonds, will be for my goddess.  
"It's a lovely ring, Rick. You did good." Father Gabriel stands in the aisle in front of me, looking down at the ring as well. "Fitting for a woman like Michonne."  
"Yeah. I thought so too." I nod my head in agreement, pleased with my own choice.  
Taking a seat in the pew in front of me, he turns sideways to face me. "So what brings you here, Rick?"  
"Now that I have the perfect ring, I was wondering how things are going with the wedding stuff. I haven't heard anything, no gossip, so I assume it's not getting around?"  
"No. Only Daryl and Maggie know. It will be small and private, like you asked. But, perhaps will that not defeat the purpose of what you are trying to accomplish? Did you not mention before that you want others to know she is your wife, maybe even in an official capacity if anything like that even exists anymore?" His face is contemplative, perhaps giving his own questions some thought. But his recollection is correct. I did mention that to him in one of our many talks. We didn't start off as friends, but he has become one over the years. I'm not a talkative man, maybe with Michonne I am. That's because I have a thirst to know everything about her, and I want her to know everything about me. So we talk. A lot. But, generally I guess I'm not a man that needs to talk too much. Though I have found some solace in my talks with Gabriel. He listens and gives good advice. In my attempts to be a better man, leader, father, husband, his feedback, though once met with derision, is now quite valuable.  
I'm also not religious. Michonne finds it strange and amusing that given that fact, I have found such a close friend in Gabriel. I suppose it is odd, but a good person is a good person, and there simply are not that many of them left.  
Giving his question some thought, I'm taking my time in answering. Attempting to measure my thoughts, gather the right words. "It's like, uh. Michonne, Carl, Judith, the babies coming, they are everything to me. They are why I live, why I fight, what keeps me going. I want to celebrate that, make it known to our friends, those we care about. That this thing between us is real. I guess I just didn't want it to be overwhelming with too many other people involved. Maybe you're right though, making it a community thing. That's fine if it's not too much trouble."  
"It's doable. I think everyone would enjoy that, a community celebration. I think Michonne will enjoy that." Gabriel nods his head in ascent and smiles.  
Pausing for a moment, taking a breath, looking down at the ring again, I continue. "I think so too. Thanks, Gabriel. She's special to me, deserves every happiness I can give her. I've never met or loved a woman like her before. Matter of fact I've never known love like this before. It's like something cosmic brought this fierce, beautiful goddess to me. Like a gift, just for me. I've been broken so many times, and she keeps putting me back together, saving me. I'm thankful. As much as I love Michonne, I sometimes hate myself when I think that I ever created any kind of sadness or uncertainty in her." I explain. Raising my hand to my head, I'm now feeling a headache coming on by my emotionally draining confession.  
Needing to get his opinion on something, I push through the dull pain starting in my head. "Let me ask you a question. Recently it's come to my attention just how much I have hurt her in the past. Chasing after Jessie when everything I could ever want or need was right in front of me. Somehow I missed that, and it injured her. Fractured her faith in me. Regardless of that, she has forgiven me, still promising me her love forever. Why do I deserve that, Gabriel? A man like me. You know me, I've killed, stolen. Hell, I've experienced jealousy at least two times in the last hour. Why would your god show me such favor?" My eyes are locked on his in earnestness. I need to figure this out. The question has been knocking around in my head ever since Michonne told me she knew about Jessie. I feel so much shame about the whole thing, and I really have no excuse. Yes, I was out of my mind at the time, but like Daryl said, we were all trying to figure things out. And even though her admission of a relationship with Scott tore me up, tears me up to the point of near savage rage at the thought of her in his arms, I cannot blame her for finding her own joy, happiness, when I didn't give it to her.  
Taking his time to answer my question, he glances over his shoulder to the cross near the front of the church. Crossing his hands over his stomach he answers, "Many people feel as though their partners are a gift to them. A mate is meant to be a help, to fill our needs, both physically and emotionally. We all need and deserve to have our needs met." He reasons, attempting to help me make sense of my question, my feelings. "Why would you feel undeserving of that, of favor, of forgiveness? Rick, you, more than probably anyone else, have sacrificed and lost for the good of others. Every time you leave these gates, you make peace with the fact that you would sacrifice your own life for others. You have saved my life many times. Who could be more deserving of a gift like Michonne than you?" He questions me back. Then giving it some more thought, he offers, "Humans, we are imperfect. To move forward, we have to forgive each other, and sometimes most importantly, ourselves. Michonne is a smart and wise woman, I think she understands that. And I would say she is your compliment in so many ways, because I think you understand that too. Instead of feeling undeserving, perhaps you should recognize her as a sign of God's grace, His forgiveness."  
"You know your god and I, Gabriel. We're not on the same page." I remind him. "I don't know how anyone could look at what this world has become, the savagery, and still see your god's hand in it."  
"Remove my God from the equation then. You referred to Michonne earlier as a goddess. You may not be far off on that. The church has often been confronted with the contemplation of a concept of the divine feminine. You see it in many cultures and beliefs over time. Oshun, Isis, Gaia, Hera. That women, their wombs, their bodies, are a gateway between life and death. Their bodies nurture and bring forth life, abundance, love. By connecting with them sexually we experience petit mort, the little death. You say she is giving you back a family, she puts you back together. Through her you continue to find rebirth, love, abundance, forgiveness. I think that's a nod to my God's grace in your life if ever I saw it." He chuckles, giving me that smirk that I have come to associate with him. It's the one where he thinks he has bested me in some way, proven a point I'm too obstinate to see.  
"She is absolutely a goddess then. No doubt there," I chuckle, and reluctantly concede. "Maybe that's why I have this need, this desire to let everyone know she's mine. That this amazing woman chose me. Sometimes the feeling is overwhelming. Almost obsessive. It makes me proud to see her carrying my babies, for others to know they are mine. That I've been there, and she's mine."  
"I could see that." He nervously laughs, looking away from me. His acknowledgement is brief, but I know he's not dismissing me.  
"Realizing there are other men who see what I see in her, that look and think about her the same way that I do, that want what I have…it's a threat to my happiness, to my family. I won't allow anyone to come between us, to try and take her from me. I would kill for her." The admission is hard for me. To admit to such base thoughts, impulses. But I say it with confidence, certain that I would not hesitate to fulfill this promise.  
Gabriel recognizes the familiar seriousness of my tone, and that I am a man of my word, and continues to assert his logic. "We possess a higher level of consciousness and reason, but at our core, we are still animals in a way. The instinct to mark what is ours, protect it, is not foreign to mankind. What you feel for Michonne is not uncommon for how someone should feel when they have something special that they want to keep for themselves."  
I take a breath, considering whether or not to fully explore and explain the reasoning behind my jealous impulses. "I had a wife, Judith and Carl's birth mother. And I had a best friend. When they thought I died, they were together. And when it turned out I wasn't dead, he still wanted them to be together. To keep my family. I tried, Gabriel, I did, to understand, to reason. But the situation with my wife and my friend…it showed me I have to sometimes be the bad guy. To protect what's mine, or someone else will take it. Just like enemies can become friends, friends can become enemies." I close my eyes to the stirring memories of the web that Shane and Lori had spun around the three of us. A web that was only destroyed by me murdering my best friend, and effectively turning my back on my wife.  
"Wars have been fought over women since the beginning of time, Rick. Ever heard of the Trojan War? You shouldn't dwell on such things, the past. I think it's most important to focus on what's now, the future. The fact that you are together, that you have found your soul mate, that you have two healthy children already here, and two more on the way. You're all safe. In this world these are not small things. Just keep loving each other. Protect your happiness, your gift, by fulfilling your promise to love and respect her. Trust that her love and forgiveness is real and you deserve it." Standing, he offers his last parting words. "Nothing lasts forever, but recognize His grace in your life for now, Rick. We cannot all be so lucky."  
Ambling through the woods, I'm following the worn path that leads to the lake that's mostly hidden behind a thicket of trees. T-shirt sticking to my body, I'm sweating profusely, feet sweltering in my worn down boots. The sun and humidity together are making me consider an uncharacteristic break and taking a dip in the lake as well. Running my hand down my face, wiping away the sweat, I'm going over in my head my conversations with both Daryl and Gabriel today. One filling me with anger, the other causing me to reconsider that anger. Catching the twinkling of laughter in the distance, I know I'm close to her, I can recognize her laugh anywhere.  
Hurrying at a quicker pace to get to Michonne, I make it to the lake. I'm welcomed by the sight of Judith and Carl splashing each other. Tara, Rosita, and a few others from Alexandria are swimming, cooling off in the water, or standing guard. At first I don't see Michonne. Swiveling my head left and right in search of her, my ears perk at the silvery softness of her voice giving away her location. My first inclination is to smile, but then I realize who she is talking to. Scott. Seated at the lake's edge, on the more isolated end, but under the shade of some trees, her skirt hoisted high on her thighs, Michonne is skimming the tops of the water with her tiny feet. Rays sunlight peak through the trees, illuminating her as if she rode down from heaven in their beams. A goddess indeed.  
Behind her, posted on guard like a sentry, Scott is looking down on her, smiling at something she's saying. I can't make it out, my ears are clouded with the thumping of my pulse. Instantly I realize, seeing them there together, that they fit, they look like they would be together. His brown skin is only a few shades lighter than hers. Sharing a laugh and smiles, her stroking her belly in that rhythmic maternal way of hers, no one would probably question the idea of them being a couple. The picture they are creating could be from a commercial, or a catalog. The familiarity of how the old world would have easily matched them to make a family, causes a wave of sickness to grip my chest. Feelings of inadequacy, of not being the man she needs, anger that Scott may have been, all attempt to overcome me. My right hand rests on my gun, finger quickly tapping at the trigger. Tilting my head, running my tongue over my lips, I momentarily look to the sky, then back to Michonne's face, attempting to reign in the darkness stirring inside of me.  
Looking up to me, acknowledging my presence and fixing me with her brown orbs, Michonne's smile chases those dark thoughts away, and reminds me of the truth of Gabriel's words. Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she exclaims with joy in her voice, "Rick." The sound of my name on her lips lessens the tension in my body, animates me to move closer, my palms itching to touch her.  
At the sound of her saying my name, Scott finally looks away from her. Smile falling from his face, he notices me approaching. "Rick." He says, disappointment and agitation heavily lacing the way he said my name, lips downturned in a frown.  
"Scott." I nod my head towards him, and narrow my eyes, partially from the glare of the sun, but mostly to set my focus on him, to announce my presence. "I'll take it from here."  
"Nice to see you again, Michonne." Scott says, never breaking eye contact with me. Reaching down, now staring at her face, affection for her apparent, he grips her shoulder briefly, his wide grin returning. "I'll see you around. Take care of yourself, ok?"  
"Of course. You too, Scott." Watching him walk away, she sets her gaze on me once more. Bathing in the warmth of the sun, her eyes are alight with softness, welcoming me, drawing me to her. "Come here," Michonne beckons to me with her hand. "Do you want to get wet?"  
Because I know this woman, the innocence she attempted to imbue her words with may have fooled someone else had they been listening, but not me. The tiny smirk that followed those words let me know she means something else entirely. It disarms me, sends me willingly drifting away from the possessive and jealous feelings I had seeing her with Scott. Taking a seat next to her, she confuses me by instantly rising, and slowly walking to stand in front of me. Leaning down she rolls the pants legs of my jeans to my calves, then tugs off each of my boots and socks, throwing them to the wooded ground behind me.  
"There you go. Now, get wet."  
Laughing I respond, feeling a little sad that she didn't mean what I thought she meant. "Oh, you meant get wet for real? In the lake."  
"Rick! What did you think I meant?" She asks, pretending at shock. "There are too many people around, and it's too hot out here for that. Get your mind out of the gutter!"  
"Nah. I want you you down here in the gutter getting dirty, and wet with me." I grin at her, taking hold of her small hand in mine. "Thank you. Have a seat with me." Leading her back to her seat beside me, I lavish her with kisses to her neck, adoring the scent of the sun on her skin. Watching across the lake we enjoy the sight of the kids and others just hanging out. Playing. Safe. Drenching my feet and legs with the lake's water, I'm allowing the coolness to relax me. Taking pleasure in this tranquil moment with my favorite girl.  
An immense wave of gratefulness washes over me. For my family. For this woman beside me, growing and nurturing my seeds within her belly. Once lithe and toned, her body is now fuller on her tiny frame, more voluptuous. Her skin is a rich coffee color, a decadent dark roast, smoother and more enticing than ever, with a brilliance that is unparalleled. I have never seen anyone like her before. I'm stunned by her, happily ensnared as she provides a mortal like myself with more love, grace, and beauty than I could have ever imagined to receive. Before the world fell apart, I never could have even fathomed that a woman like this would look my way, let alone be my lover, my wife, the mother of my children. How ironic that after so much darkness and death Michonne and I have found life, together.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Delivery Day  
"Nope you're not in labor yet." Corey says, pulling the hem of my night gown back down over my thighs, removing his gloves and tossing them in the trash in our en suite bathroom.  
"What? Are you sure?" I question, tossing my head back on my pillow in frustration. Clad in nothing but a short, white, cotton night gown, the fact that my boys seem unwilling to give up my womb today is making me anxious. Between the sweltering heat of Virginia, and the general discomfort of being so swollen, I'm ready to serve these babies with an immediate eviction notice.  
"I didn't think she was in labor just yet, Corey. Sorry we woke you up and got you over here so late." Rick apologized, seated next to me at the edge of the bed shirtless in just his pajama pants, holding my hand. "She's been crying wolf all day though, so I just wanted to be sure." He looked over to me, giving me a knowing smirk.  
"Really, Rick? Whose side are you on?" I ask, agitated with his description of me, and my general physical discomfort. Though I suppose he's not far off. Every touch of heightened pressure has felt like a trigger for labor, but it sounds like they have all deceptively just been Braxton-Hicks.  
"I'm always on your side, baby, you know that. You don't even have to ask." He picks up the hand that he's holding and lovingly kisses my wrist, indulging and softening me to him. "But I think if you were really in labor you wouldn't have been so calm about it." He laughs. "Right, Corey? Probably a lot more hollerin' involved if I correctly remember how this goes."  
"All of the babies I have delivered were welcomed by a whole lot of hollering!" Corey agreed with Rick, sending them into a moment of shared convivial laughter. While I don't appreciate their amusement at my expense, it is good to see Corey and Rick getting along. I sincerely thought that after their first meeting, and my admission about finding Corey attractive, familiar, that Rick was going to either kill him, or at least hate his guts forever. But, recently he has been making a concerted effort to get along with him. Helping him get setup in one of the nicest apartments in Alexandria, the Monroes' old apartment. Going on runs for specific medical supplies to help further stock the infirmary, at Corey's request. Introducing him around the community. It's the little things that have made a big difference. He's still Rick Grimes though, so while he doesn't stare him down any time a pelvic exam is involved, he does still get tense. But, I no longer worry about his Colt Python making a lethal appearance at the same time. Progress.  
I appreciate the effort he's putting forth to tame his anger and jealousy some, though sometimes I have to admit that it turns me on a little. Sometimes a lot. Last week when he found Scott and I at the lake talking, the fire in Rick's eyes had me so excited I couldn't wait to get him back to our house and wear him out. Which I did. He deserved a reward for not killing Scott, which knowing Rick, crossed his mind at least once.  
That night we had a good talk about it too, which is also something he has been doing a lot of lately. Talking, communicating, making sure we understand each other. Not just to me, but to others as well. What I have learned from our talks, and a few conversations with Maggie as well, is that the situation with Shane and Lori really did a number on him. When you have had the two people you are closest to, that you love the most in the world, hurt and betray you like they did to him, it's hard for anyone to forget that kind of pain. There was so much about Lori and Rick's relationship that was toxic, that it has permeated itself into the fabric of who Rick is, how he feels about himself, and others around him. There was a reason that Rick was hesitant for he and I to be together, to love again, to let us really have a chance at this future, and that reason is Lori. Who sleeps with another man, your husband's best friend, weeks, maybe months after you assume he died? The only thing good I have ever heard about Lori was that she gave the world some amazing kids, and with that I can agree. Other than that I can't even muster a kind thought for her.  
My Rick is such a wonderful, loving man, who sacrifices and gives so much of himself, that I can't find it in me to punish him for reacting in a purely human and understandable way. I knew he would be upset about Scott, to find out about our time together. Scott was what I needed, when I needed it. It's because I was able to open myself emotionally with Scott, that I could fully embrace who I really wanted, and that was Rick. My heart, everything I am and that I have, undoubtedly belongs to that man. So, I have decided to be patient with him, and to encourage him to work through the feelings of jealousy on his own time. To remind him that he can trust me, in our love, and that I would never betray him, hurt him. Never. As I sit here on this bed, watching him patting Corey on the back, listening to them laugh together, and the fact that Scott is still breathing, I think he's doing an amazing job working through it, all things considered. There was a time when my husband would have shot first and asked questions later.  
Being honest I'm also no saint when it comes to Rick. I get jealous, I just hide it better than he does. Rick's temper is like an immediate brush fire, wildly consuming everything around it with lethal efficiency. My temper is more like ice. Cool, enchanting, in some forms deceptively beautiful, yet still lethal. Never one to show my own hand, I did secretly hate the ground Jessie walked on. Clearly not broken up by her death, I simply chose to ignore her at the time, and moved on with hopes that Rick would snap out of it, while I occupied myself with Scott. And I did make sure to kill Jadis, when we stormed and took over their junkyard. Though under the guise of war being war, and simply brutal, there was nothing but pure satisfaction in my heart when I felt the blade of my katana sever her bad haircut and head from her body. I could have let her live, but I did not take kindly to her having the nerve to even consider being with Rick, let alone boldly asking me to lay with him. I may be just now warming up to the outward possessive claiming of Rick, but I don't play when it comes to him, and truthfully I think that at the end of the day, he likes that in me as much as I like it in him.  
"I'm glad that you two are so amused over my discomfort." I grumble, not seeing the humor at all.  
"I think the babies will come soon though, Michonne, so it's good that you are prepared. But you've gone into labor before, you will know when it's really show time." Corey advised, packing up his doctor's bag.  
"I told her that, too. I think we're both just kinda eager to get the show on the road, so I don't blame her." Rick leans over me and kisses me softly on the forehead.  
"I was reading about ways to induce labor earlier today, and I have a few suggestions for you. You could try exercise like walking, or spicy foods if you can find any, or…ahem sex might help as well." He trips a little on that last one, his eyes nervously bouncing from Rick to me.  
The room grows quiet, and Corey looks to me, maybe looking for a clue as to how Rick is taking this, and I'm looking to Rick to gauge his response. But in no time, a slow, wide grin hits his lips, a scarlet blush rushing from his toned chest to his handsome face. The mood in the room remains light as Rick's wide smile, nestled in the brush of his thick beard, is followed by a burst of raucous laughter erupting from him. Turning to me, his eyebrows raised high over those sapphire eyes of his, he cheekily asks, "Think we can manage that, Chonne, the sex part?"  
Following his lead, taken in by his sexy flirtation, not caring that Corey is in the room with us, I bite down on my lip and answer. "Yeah, Rick, I think we've got that down in spades, baby."  
"Alrighty then. I think that's my cue." Corey mutters, apparently uncomfortable with the sexually laced banter between Rick and I. "Michonne, I wouldn't suggest leaving Alexandria any time soon. Babies should be here any day now. Good night folks. I'll show myself out." He says, grabbing his bag, turning to hurriedly exit through the bedroom door.  
Mischief evident in his eyes, not even acknowledging Corey's hasty departure, or waiting to be sure that he is gone from the house, Rick brushes my lips with his own, and whispers, "Come here."  
Opening my mouth to answer him, Rick takes advantage and quickly moves to plunge his commanding tongue into my mouth, firmly capturing and sucking on my bottom lip. Turning my head towards him with his hungry kiss, his heavy body is now pressing to my side. Throwing his left leg over my own, he's holding me open for his left hand to hoist my nightgown up and over my breasts. Firmly grasping my chin, holding my mouth to his, his powerful hand is now slowly gravitating downward. Stopping to take a hold of my throat, he nudges my head back to the headboard just enough for his lips to vigorously suck at my quickening pulse. A quiet moan escapes my lips, as his sucking turns to soft bites and licks.  
My back is arched now, and Rick's capable hand is masterfully kneading my large breasts, his thumb rolling over the erect peaks, now tight with the thrill of my arousal. Everything on my body has heightened sensitivity now, and I can barely handle what he's doing to me, his masterful attention to my most erogenous parts. "Oh God. Rick…", I groan, my lust reaching such formidable peaks that I can barely breathe. With my own right hand, I'm determined to help assuage the fire that has my body poised to melt into a satiated puddle. Legs thrown wide apart, I dip my fingers into the damp heat between my legs, slowly massaging the folds for relief. Seeing that I have begun to pleasure myself, Rick places his left hand over my right, guiding my fingers back and forth, spreading my juices across my clit with concentrated strokes.  
Rick's heavy breaths fall from his lips in warm puffs. Looking to pleasure him as well, I wrangle my left arm from between us, and lick my palm. His eyes open to observe my movements, watching as I reach my hand into his pajama pants and grab hold to his cock. Firmly I wrap my hand around him, his flesh steely and erect. Twisting and pulling, the gyrations of my hand draw out rough growls that rumble in his hard chest pressed against my arm, and I can tell that his wanton appetite is as greedy as my own.  
"Grab me tighter, Chonne." Rick assertively demands, gruffness tinging his voice. Indulging his request, I tighten my grip on him, and we are equally delighting in the pleasure we are giving each other, but I need more.  
"Rick, I need you to fuck me. Please, baby." I beg, knowing that the craving evident in my voice will drive him crazy, spur him to further action.  
Withdrawing his hand from my body, he jumps out of the bed. Glancing over at him, I witness him hurriedly pushing down his pajama pants over his lean hips, and stepping out of them to reveal the full length and heft of his satisfying cock. My perusal of his body is both lewd and lascivious, as the need to partake of what he's offering, my desire to be filled to the hilt by him, is nudging me to the brink of insanity.  
Taking me in, Rick's own gaze is dark and lust filled, as he commands me. "Stand up and turn around, Chonne." Following his orders, I slowly raise from the bed, my thighs slick from enjoyment at the gruff way he summons me to act. Coming up behind me, his chest to my back, cock nestled firmly into the cleft of my ass, left arm wrapped around my shoulders, he's softly caressing my throat with his agile fingers. Tilting his head to the right, he wetly licks and kisses the corner of my lips. "Bend over, hands on the bed."  
Again following his direction, I bend over slowly, clutching the sheets in my palms, yearning for his touch. Tight with anticipation, Rick's ambitious palms caress my pussy and massage my ass, pulling apart the cheeks. Leaning over and taking a long salacious lick, from my clit to my ass, he moans in appreciation, as I bury my face in the sheets, unable to quietly withstand the pleasure. Standing once again, he administers a sharp smack to my right cheek and proclaims in his southern tenor, "Now you're ready."  
Immediately the pressure from his heavy blunt tip is felt pushing against my drenched lips, causing me to loudly cry out. Bending over, around me, he's draping my body with his own. My awareness of how close and connected we are through all of my senses is significantly increased in this position. Rick is everywhere. The taste of his mouth is still lacing the flavor of my own. The feel of his heavy body tightly surrounding, and fully engorged inside of me. Deep pants of excitement find their way to my ears. Over my shoulder I can see his chestnut curls dancing across his forehead with every strong push of his body against mine. Drenched in sweat, the smell of his masculine musk incites every animalistic desire inside of me that delights in him taking me in this way, satisfying my deepest urges.  
Thrusting with a slight measure of force, he's impaling me despite the tight resistance of my snug canal, causing such a delicious friction that I'm hungrily pushing back to consume as much of his cock as I can take. His left hand is tightly grasping the swell of my thigh, directly below my stomach, his right arm is now thrown across my breasts. Lazily his right gravitates lovingly to the side of my face, turning it towards him. Sloppily licking and biting on my chin, my cheeks, he stops at my lips. Though it's dark, the moon's specter sneaking through the windows, creates enough dusky lighting for me to see his piercing blue eyes studying my face.  
"Is that what you needed, baby? Hm?" He asks in a low seductive growl, that sends a streak of excitement from my core and up my spine. Now fully seated, his groin pressed close to my butt, he lessens the force, and his hips begin a slow seductive roll, in and out. Widening his stance, and swiveling his hips from side to side, I'm momentarily frozen from the delicious feeling of him opening me up further.  
I finally catch my breath enough to answer him. "Yes! Yes! Rick, please!"  
"Please what, Chonne?" He asks, his left hand is now busily brushing against my clit in a steady rhythm that has me desperate to capture and succumb to the climax he's stirring in me. Picking up speed, his thrusts are becoming near frantic in their pace. Back arched as much as I can in his tight hold, I'm trying to meet his groin every time it grinds against my ass. The force with which his cock is tunneling and knocking against my g-spot is simply the purest and most exquisite torture.   
Panting, attempting to take in as much air as I can to survive the thrill of this ride, I'm responding in small huffs, "Fuck me, Rick, harder! Please."  
Clutching me to his chest with his strong right arm wrapped around my shoulders, Rick lightly grabs onto my left thigh with his other hand, bending it to place it on the bed, giving him deeper access to my pussy. Since my stomach is so large now, our sex positions are more limited, but Rick knows this one is my absolute favorite. Spread this way for him, Rick is able to get deep inside of me, to that magic spot that is guaranteed to deliver a breathtaking orgasm.  
"There you go, open up for me, baby. Shit, you're so damn wet!" He exclaims, peppering my face with his adoring kisses.  
"It's so good, Rick. Don't stop, don't stop."  
"You feel amazing on my dick, Chonne, fuck!"  
Before I know it, fire is licking through my body, my orgasm erupting through me. Head bowed over in exhaustion, I'm savoring the electrifying stirring in my womanhood, slickness drowning Rick's cock. Words can't describe the sensation, the only sound that can exit my lips is a satisfying hum. "Mmmmmm…"  
"Fuck, I'm coming…" Still chasing his own completion, Rick's grip of my body grows tighter, his left hand clutching my hip with such strength it's exciting me all over again. With a final hard thrust I can instantly sense the splash of his cum. "Fuuuuuuck!"  
Collapsing together, our senses are recovering from the overwhelmingly titillating way we've pleasured each other. Cuddled together, my body dwarfed by Rick's, cloaked in his warmth, we're both exhausted. Helping me up, and into the bed, turning onto my side, sleep is immediately making a hard play at dragging me under. Edging up behind me in the bed, his palm lightly rubbing my stomach in hypnotizing circles, Rick breaks through my imminent slumber with a gentle nipping tug from his lips to my ear, and raspy low spoken words. "I think that will get my boys outta there, Chonne."

"Hey." Rosita greets Judith and I, hand in hand, coming up the sidewalk in a slow stroll.  
"Hello, Rosita. How are you feeling?" I query, taking note that Rosita is still attempting to mask her pregnancy with oversized clothing. Clad in jeans, and man's oversized T-shirt, her modest bump is thinly concealed, but easy to detect if you were looking for it. It's also a stark contrast to her normal summer attire of short shorts, and tank tops.  
"I'm fine. Tired, hot, aggravated. Nothing new." She huffs, and shrugs.  
"Do you want to talk about it? Judy and I are just taking a walk, keeping busy."  
"Oh yeah? You mind if I join you guys and talk to your mommy for a little bit, Judith?" Rosita asks in an uncharacteristically sweet voice, the one that's reserved only for children.  
"Ok." She shrugs. "I'm just walking my mommy so that my brothers will come out. I heard Daddy tell Mommy he thought he did the trick last night, but the babies still aren't here." Judith states matter of factly, confusion lacing her elf-like little voice. "But you can help I guess." She says, releasing her grip on my hand and skipping ahead of us in her pretty purple sundress.  
Waddling side to side, I'm putting forth a great deal of effort to balance all this belly and body, and not melt in this heat. Rosita falls in step with me, heading towards the middle of the community.  
"What's on your mind, Rosita?"  
"I know that you and Rick know about Daryl's and my situation. You haven't told anyone else have you?" Peaking over at me, wariness in her eyes.  
"No. But, I hope you realize that it's not really a secret anymore. Your cheeks are puffing out, your nose is getting bigger, your stomach is bigger. People can probably tell, Rosita. More importantly, why do you want it to be a secret?"  
"Because then people are going to want to know whose baby it is, Michonne. It's not like with you and Rick. Daryl and I aren't together. I don't want to have to explain to people that my baby is the result of a wartime, mourning, grief hookup." She explains. There is a hint of both bitterness and regret in her words, and I understand why. While I don't fault her for not wanting to answer all of the questions that she will be flooded with should she admit to being pregnant, let alone being pregnant by Daryl, I think she owes it to herself and to him to at least be honest and straightforward with each other.  
I will never understand why the stereotype that women like to gossip ever became a thing. Men gossip more than any women I have ever known. Rick is a perfect example. He simply cannot hold water. That man has never met a secret or a bit of gossip that he couldn't wait to tell me. So, when Daryl came to him about two months ago and confessed that he and Rosita had slept together the night that Carol died, and that now she was pregnant with his baby, Rick beat a path directly to the pantry where Aaron and I were putting together a list of needs for the next run. Finding me with Aaron, and not wanting to spill the beans to him as well, he came up with some bogus story to get me away, so we could be alone and he could fill me in on his newest bit of Alexandria gossip. As usual it was a story about who is sleeping with who, but the twist here was that the parties involved were resident grouches, Rosita and Daryl. And that not only had they slept together, but she was now pregnant and pretty much refusing to acknowledge it or him, at least not until she was inevitably left with no choice.  
As unlikely as their pairing seemed, I could see how and why they would seek comfort in each other. Everyone knew that there was something with Carol and Daryl, with Rick telling me that he unbelievingly caught them together once at the prison. But, when she moved to The Kingdom, and seemed to be trying to build a life with Ezekiel, their "thing" fizzled out completely. When she was killed by an explosion set off on the road by the saviors before the end of the war, he never fully recovered. Afterwards he threw himself completely into his ambassador duties with Eugene. Rosita on the other hand has been functioning, or not, depending on who you ask, in a constant state of hurt and anger since Abe left her for Sasha. Subsequently losing both of them, Glenn, Denise, Olivia, and Spencer as well. Then Eugene's relocation to The Sanctuary, mostly due to her actions as well, it was all a lot for her to cope with. The saviors had taken so much from all of us, grief running rampant through our war torn communities. It really was no surprise that the same dark anger that cast a pall over each of us in mourning, would pull those two together.  
"But you don't have to tell them if you don't want to, and I think that Daryl would want you to at least not deny him access to the baby. It's his baby as well, and you both deserve to try and find the happiness in this. From your grief you created a life."  
"How do you know he would want me to, Michonne? He doesn't talk to me. Not really." Rosita states, eye cast somewhere ahead of his, nervously searching for understanding.  
"He's not a talker. But, I know Daryl, and I know he wants this baby, but he also wants to do whatever you want to do. And he wants you take care of yourself and the baby. At least do that. Let Corey examine you to make sure everything is ok."  
"I wanted to die for so long, I was ready to die. But Sasha said it wasn't my time, so here I am. I don't think I want to give up anymore. Maybe."  
"Perhaps this thing with Daryl, this chance to start building a new life together, with all of us, is why it wasn't your time then. For sure we will all go at some point, we can lose each other at any time. But, what are we going to do with the time we have now? All of this fighting and surviving has to mean something, it's got to be for some reason."  
"Is that how you feel about your relationship with Rick?" She asks in earnest  
At the sound of his name, I get a flash reminder of what we did last night, and a happy smile claims my face, from my lips to my eyes. "Yeah, it is. Rick is definitely one of the reasons. Do yourself a favor and talk to Daryl. Figure it out together. Right now, you are the only family each other has. Add your baby to the mix, and you can have something, Rosita. If you want it. There's a reason you guys found each other in the first place. Ok?"  
"We'll see. I'll let you go and catch up with Judith, she's gotten pretty far on those little legs of hers." She nods ahead and jokes, attempting to lighten the moment.  
"Take care, Rosita." Knowing that Rosita doesn't really seek affection, I sense that she needs it, and reach out to give her a hug. Surprisingly, she returns it with sincere fervor. Parting ways, I watch her walk away towards Daryl's apartment, hopeful that they will be able to work things out.  
"Judy, sweetie, come back now!" I scream out for my daughter, who has made it nearly a full block away from me.  
Obeying and running back towards me, her chubby cheeks are red from exertion. "Mommy, are you done with big girl talk with 'Sita?" Judith asks, scrunching up her little face at me.  
"Yes I am, and I'm ready to head home. Mommy's back is hurting and I think I need to use the potty."  
"We gotta get home, Mommy! You can't use the potty in your big girl panties, you gotta use the potty like a big girl, Mommy." She reminds me, scolding me in the same way I did her while she was potty training.  
"Let's go then, Judy." I say, inviting her to take hold of my hand again. Walking the block or so back towards our house is proving nearly impossible with the dull pressure and ache in my back now spreading to my abdomen.  
Needing to take a break and catch my breath, I'm looking to the sky, composing myself when I hear Judith's admonishing voice again. "Uh oh, Mommy. You didn't make it to the potty in time!"  
Lowering my head to see what Judith is talking about, I instantly realize that my water has broken, and is trickling down my thigh. Trying to stay calm I take a few deep breaths in and out, but the ache is becoming more precise now, more of a tightening sting to both my abdomen and back. Hands to my stomach, bent over in pain, a grimace is covering my face.  
Chubby little hands to my face, Judith touches my cheeks and looks me in the eyes, with all the childlike seriousness she can muster. "Come on, Mommy, I walk you home and I won't tell anyone you went pee pee on yourself." Shaking her head slightly, she smiles at me like this is our little secret.  
"Thank you, sweetheart, but I think we should walk to the infirmary instead. Maybe stop at the house to see if Daddy is still there to walk with us, ok? Can you help Mommy do that, Judy?" I ask, trying to prevent my demeanor and face from scaring her, but I'm in a great deal of pain now. More pain and pressure than I remember experiencing with Andre, and the profoundness of it is quite jolting.  
"Yes, Mommy, I can do that! Let's go." Grabbing hold to my hand, a moment passes for me to collect myself enough to stand up straight and move my legs, my feet. One foot in front of the other, we slowly make our way to our house. Judith releases my hand and takes off up the stairs to crash through the door, looking and hollering for Rick.  
I continue my sluggish amble towards the infirmary, when Rick comes frantically running out of the house towards me, without his boots on, Judith trailing behind him. "Michonne! What's happening? Judith said you peed yourself?"  
"I had to tell him, Mommy, cause he wouldn't wake up from his nap until I did. Sorry." She apologizes, pouting at her father telling on her about telling on me.  
"It's ok, you did good." I smile at her, giving her a pat on the back for being so helpful. "Rick, it's time, my water broke while Judith and I were walking. And it hurts, so can we get to the infirmary now? The pain is pretty intense." Excitement animating his features, I put my hand out for him to try, a weak attempt to try and relax both of us. "I need help to get there, Rick. I can't walk the few blocks on my own, it's too much." I breathe out, feeling my face flush with sweat and heat from the exertion of walking and enduring the consistent rush of pain in my stomach.  
"Yes! Yeah!" Rick swivels his head back and forth, curls flying around his head, looking for something, but not moving. I need to get going.  
"Rick, why don't you run in the house and get your boots. Is Carl home?" I calmly ask, hoping to spur him to action.  
"No, but Aaron or Eric might be home a few doors down. Ho-Hold on. Can you stand here for a sec on your own?" he asks, rambling through his answer, running his hands through his hair in a panic.  
"Ok, go ahead. Judith and I will just try and walk a bit while you get your things." I reason, holding tightly to my baby girl's hand. "Come on, Judy, I need you to walk with Mommy some more." My halting words are now eeking out in between my attempts to relax, to employ meditative breathing to get through the pain and the absurdity of the situation. Running back out of the house boots in hand, not on his feet, Rick takes off down the street to bang on Aaron's door. Luckily Aaron appears pretty quickly, used to the dramatic turns that have taken place in Alexandria, always poised for action. I can't hear what Rick is saying, but he's grabbed Aaron's hand and is pulling him towards me and Judith.  
Shuffling at a snail's pace, having barely left the front of my house, it's easy for Rick and Aaron to reach us, and take over from Judith. Rick hands Judith his boots to carry. Arms supporting my back, Rick and Aaron each grasp tightly to one of my own arms. They lead me the few blocks over to the infirmary, drawing the curious stares and questions of neighbors and friends. Judith excitedly answers all queries, explaining that her Mommy had a potty accident, with Rick exasperatedly clarifying that my water broke and I'm in labor. Faking a smile to everyone through my steadily increasing pants and gasps, I'm overwhelmed with relief that we finally make it to the infirmary and that Corey is there.  
"Grimes family, it's finally show time huh? Rick, let's get her into the bathroom in the back with the tub." Corey directs.  
"Huh? Why the bathroom?" Rick asks, not understanding.  
"Michonne said she wanted a water birth, and when I read up on them, I think it will be best considering that an epidural is not possible, and we don't want to do a C-Section unless we have no choice. The warm water should help with the pain, and hopefully reduce the chance of tearing. If your plans have changed we can try something different, but medically speaking I think the water birth is the best option." He assures.  
"Oh, uh, Chonne if that's what you want I'm fine with it. You sure you don't want any pain meds of any kind? Corey, you can't give her something?" Rick asks, uncertainty clear in voice.  
"No, this should be fine. I think it will be ok." I utter. "Aaron, thank you for helping Rick get me here. Can you please take Judith and see if you can find Carl, let him know we're here?"  
"Sure. Good luck!"

Submerged in the warm soothing water, my legs bent at the knee, pulled to my chest, I'm leaning back on Rick's chest, controlling my breathing. Clad in nothing but a bra, and Rick in his boxers, this whole experience is surreal. That I'm here, in this place, with the love of my life, giving birth to twins, in an idyllic community surrounded by decay and destruction. Who says that the universe doesn't have a wicked sense of humor? Growing exhausted from the grueling start and stop of the pushing, attempting to meditate to mitigate the pain, I ease my head back on Rick's shoulder to capture a brief moment of relief.  
Rick's kisses to my temple, and his firm calloused touch rubbing through my locs, do provide some modicum of comfort. "You're doing great, baby, you really are. Right, Corey, she's doing good?" Rick encourages, always so supportive.  
"You're doing amazing, Michonne. But, I think we can try something else to speed things along, maybe use gravity to your advantage. Baby A is nearly here, I could feel his head right there, but I think you're so tired that the pushes aren't doing the trick just yet. How about we try with you on your knees, or squatting on your feet facing Rick? And then you can push and let's see if we can't get at least the first baby out? Can you do that?" Corey asks. He has been extremely patient throughout the long day. Getting things set up for us, not balking at Rick's demanding commands that he do something about the pain every time I moan, move, or sweat. And offering helpful options, like this one to change positions. No, his grace under pressure is sorely needed, and he's proving to be a fantastic doctor, a big asset to us.  
Everything is so different from when I had Andre. It's not at all what I expected. These Grimes boys are as stubborn as their father, and just don't seem to want to come out. Swiftly going from eight to ten centimeters dilated, and now at 100% effacement, this should be going quicker than it is. When I came in and got settled Corey thought it would move along at a fairly fast pace. But it didn't, not exactly. It seems like when I got in the tub, these boys went the opposite direction and slowed down, settling in and abandoning their previously enacted escape plan. I assume that like their father, a warm, safe, and cozy home is not something they are going to give up too easily.  
Over the last 12 hours of labor, Rick walked with me up and down the hall to keep my mind off the reality of an active, drawn out labor with no pain medication. And Carl and Judith came, bringing me ice to suck on since I was not allowed to eat any food. Judith chattered away, completely unaware of the seriousness of what was going on. Her constant questions and stories did serve to pleasantly distract me as she detailed to Rick and I all the games she was going to play, things she was going to do with her new brothers, all fun stuff that Carl is too old to do. And names, baby names that she thought should be considered. If she had her way Pooh and Piglet, from one of her favorite bed time stories, would be purely logical choices.  
My poor, sweet son, Carl on the other hand, seemed freaked out about the whole thing, and kept his distance unless he was bringing a new batch of ice. I think it's bringing back too many awful memories of his mother giving birth to Judith, the fatal way that ended for Lori, and the heart-wrenching role he had to play in that. As a family we talked about what this could mean, me giving birth to twins. And not just the change in our lives for a successful birth, but the potential for a less than happy outcome. Judith didn't understand anything past babies. Carl completely understood, but with a stoicism we have come to expect from him, he said he's with us either way. After hours of stalled labor, watching me grunt and groan, he and Judith decided to sleep at the infirmary until the babies came, but Carl didn't want to be in the room for the delivery. And frankly, it's too soon to explain to Judith why the babies are coming out of Mommy's "girl parts", and how they got in there, so it's best she not be present either. With a quick kiss to my cheek from Carl, and a sloppy "kissy" from Judith's cookie crumb covered lips, Rick and I were alone in the tub, ready for delivery.  
Deciding to listen to Corey's advice, Rick helps me to my knees, which are straddling his thighs, my pelvis widely set. I'm leaning over him, with my arms extended to his shoulders, head bowed to his, our foreheads touching. His arms are snugly around my waist, resting on my back, his hands massaging up and down, settling us in to this new position.  
"This feels familiar huh? Probably how we ended up in this tub in the first place?" Rick grins at me, his blues roaming over my face, lovingly gazing into my weary, tired eyes. His own are red rimmed, a clear sign of how tired he is as well. This man has been with me every step of the way, walking with me, holding my hand, pulling my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head, attempting to absorb as much of the stress and pain of this delivery as he realistically can. The only complaint he had all day was that the water in the tub was too hot, as usual, as he always claims I like the shower and the tub hotter than necessary. That minor grumble aside, he has been perfect. Though frantic at times, nerves evident by how unkempt his curls have become all over his head, he has been my rock, keeping me from giving up when the pain was too burdensome, or the pushing was draining me.  
"Rick…" I say, drawing out his name, offering a little chuckle at the end, amused by his astute observation. "No more twins. You promise? This is taking a lot out of me."  
"My goddess, I can't make that promise. You know you incite the best outta me. Next time let's do triplets." He offers, raising his greying eyebrows high, teasing me, biting down on his perfectly pink bottom lip. Proceeding to take away my breath, he places his lips firmly against mine, and whispers over my lips "You're amazing, and strong, Chonne, you got this. You're so beautiful right now, like this, always. You are making every one of my dreams reality. Thank you."  
"Don't try to smooth talk me, Grimes. I might not let you touch me again if these boys don't come on out. Ooooooh!"  
"Let me check you, Michonne. You're going to feel my hands." I can feel Corey behind me, his hands gently prodding, feeling for the baby's head at the entrance of my tender canal. "Oh yeah, Baby A is crowning. Give me a big push, come on, your boys are coming. Rick, help her to her feet, in more of a crouch, and support her upper half." Corey advised.  
"I got it. Come on, Chonne. Baby, we're almost there." Rick encourages, eyes excited at the impending arrival of our babies.  
"Mmmmm, oh God!" I groan through the push and the pain, but instantly I feel a relief of the immediate pressure, sending me nearly collapsing onto Rick, leaving my unsteady feet. Sweat is dripping down my face, streaming over my nose and lips.  
Rubbing the back of my neck, Rick excitedly exclaims, "He's here! Chonne, baby, he's here!"  
I can't move though, I'm exhausted. My neck won't even move to turn and see my baby boy. Corey is scurrying from his position behind me at the side of the tub, where he guided the first baby out. Hurriedly pulling him from the bloody water, I can hear Corey clearing his mouth with the aspirator, encouraging him to cry. Slightly turning my head towards the commotion, Rick and I both catch our first glimpse of our boy. Hollering loudly, flailing his arms and miniature fists about wildly, is our boy. His tiny body is covered in a white, greasy substance, and his head is overspread in long jet black curls.  
"Look at him, Chonne. He's beautiful! Hey little guy!" Rick says, pride and excitement in his voice. Tears of joy welling in his icy blue eyes, are released by a quick succession of ecstatic blinks. Mesmorized momentarily, we are both locked into the sight of our baby. The first real empirical evidence of our love, our coupling.  
Gasping for air, trying to collect myself, the joy of our first son's arrival is cut short by the tensing pressure of his brother following him out. "Oh God, it hurts again! Oh God!" I suddenly moan from the uptick of pressure to my canal again.  
"Here, Rick, hold Baby A in your left arm here, on your shoulder. Michonne, back on your feet, but shift the weight from your top half to Rick's right shoulder, ok? Everybody got it? Whew, we're almost there!" Corey enthusiastically guides. Heading back towards the foot of the tub, he places his hands at my opening to check for my other son. "Yeah, the little guy is crowning, as well. Big push, Michonne, he's coming fast."  
Teetering on my tired feet, one hand around Rick's right shoulder, the other on the rim of the tub, my head is bowed and I question whether or not I have another push left in me.  
Reading my mood, recognizing that fatigue is conquering me, Rick withdraws his awestruck gaze from our son, and peeks over at me. "Look at me, Chonne, me and the baby. Look at what you've already done. One more push, Mommy, then you can rest, I promise. You can do that, you can do anything. I know you can." Clasping his free arm around my shoulders, he's holding me steady, encouraging me to push.  
Acquiescing to his demand, I turn my attention towards Rick and our baby, and observe the way my baby's loud screaming has descended into a quiet mewling and nuzzling against his father's chest. The way my husband is looking between me and the baby, with a smile that's like the sun, bright and full of hope, love. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy, and it spurs me on to dig deep for one more big push. With tears in my tired eyes, I bear down, venturing to bring this long journey to a close.  
Immense pain shoots from the soft tissues around my canal, as my other son bursts from me and into the world. "Ahhhhhh!" Is all I can muster, as my body gives in to how depleted I am, worn out. From there things are a blur. I hear Corey exclaim that the last baby is here. I catch a bit of the same buzz of movement from before, I assume extract him from the cloudy water, and clean him up. Crumpled into a heap on Rick's shoulder, now back on my knees and facing him, I can clearly hear Rick's sobs of joy, witness the elation and relief in the tears traveling down his face, onto the heads of the babies, now both snugly together in his arms. Smiling, I'm slipping away, closing my eyes. The last thing I see before giving in to the clawing grasp of unconsciousness are the faces of my babies, and my husband.

Groggily, I wake up in a darkened room. Struggling to fully open my eyes, I try to sit up, but there is a great deal of pain throbbing below, and it sends me reclining back onto the bed. Turning my head left and right, I notice a small twin sized bed next to mine, same as the one I'm in. But in the other, swaddled with two pillows on either side of them, are my babies, my boys. Face down, resting on one of the pillows is Rick, softly snorting, one arm protectively laid over the babies' bodies. Hearing rustling below, I look to the floor and see two familiar lumps that resemble Judith and Carl, asleep, wrapped up in blankets.  
Seeing that all of my family is accounted for, I allow sleep to reclaim me, needing its energizing affects.  
Startled by the sound of a baby crying, I momentarily forget where I am, what's happening and what's going on.  
"Mommy, you're up!" Judith rushes me, and throws her little arms and body around me. Brilliant sun rays are covering the room in a luster that makes everything seem new, heavenly. Weakly returning my little girl's hug, I search the room for the originator of the crying. "Mommy, I'm so glad you woke up! You were sleep a long time. And the babies are here, you missed it." She pouts, poking her lips out momentarily, then continues with another complaint, "And, Daddy won't let me name them Pooh and Piglet because he said those are not good names. I say they are, but Carl said they weren't either, so you have to pick my side, ok?" She finishes all in one long breath.  
Caught off guard by her rapid-fire commands, I'm happy to see that Carl and Rick are approaching my bed. Carl leans his tall frame down to give me a gentle hug and kiss, as though I might break apart if he does so too tightly. Hair messy, and still in need of a cut, swipes it from his eyes, and reaches for Judith's hand to lightly tug her away from the bed. "Judes, let's give Mom and Dad a minute to feed the babies. We will be back soon, Mom, we haven't eaten yet, but we figured we would wait until you woke up. Dad was right, you woke up right around 5:30 am."  
"It never fails. Morning, baby," Rick greets me with his thick and heavy morning voice, deeper and raspier than his usual heavily southern twang. "Some folks here wanna have breakfast with you if you're up to it." With great care, Rick places each baby in my arms. "Alright, boys, that's your Mommy."  
Overwhelmed with happiness, tears cloud my eyes, and quick blink sends them dropping down my face. I'm taking in their tiny faces peeking out of their swaddling blankets. Tinged with just a brush of my own chocolate tone, Rick's nose and my lips, these agitated and hungry boys are a perfect mix of the both of us, in the exact same way. Frowning a bit, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing, Rick's voice cuts in to my thoughts.  
"Obviously we don't have names for them yet," He pointedly looks at Judith, who is quietly still pouting over by the door with Carl. "And since they are identical we can only tell them apart so far by this little mole here that Baby A has on his cheek. Other than that, they are exactly the same."  
"How wonderfully perfect you two are." I exclaim, falling in love with them even more than when we were all together, sharing my body. Hearing my voice for the first time since being on the outside, they each begin to settle down a little more, as if they recognize me, but continue to scrunch their diminutive mouths into the cutest little pucker.  
"I think they're hungry. I gave them a little formula last night, but Corey said it's best if you can breastfeed them if you want to. Either way, it's up to you how you want this to go." Rick tiredly offers, raising his hands above his head in a long stretch.  
"Uh yeah, we're definitely gonna leave then before you start pulling body parts out. We'll be back later." Carl comments, rushing out of the room with Judith.  
"Do you need anything, Chonne? You hungry? Tara brought some of that decaf green tea you like, or some bread? Folks have been dropping off food and gifts all night."  
"I'll take some tea later. Let me see if I can get some milk going for these babies, first. Then you can tell me what happened after the second baby came. I think I passed out." I say, handing one of the babies back to Rick so that I can get situated to try and breast feed. Clearly distracted by me removing my shirt to expose my breasts, Rick is frozen, watching as I place my nipple at the baby's lips to encourage him to latch on. "Rick?" I ask.  
"Huh?" He answers, distracted, eyes laser focused on my grasp of my now large breasts, and the pinch of my blackberry colored nipples.  
"Well? What happened when the second baby came?" I laugh, watching as my hungry baby boy greedily begins a tentative suckle, that is quickly picking up speed.  
"Oh, uh sorry. I've never seen breast feeding before. Lori didn't have much in that area, and said she wasn't interested in it at all. And your breasts are even bigger it seems. Much bigger." He quietly chuckles, amazed by the transformation of my body.  
"Here, sit next to me. Tell me what happened after Pooh and Piglet got here." I smirk, amused by the names gifted to the boys by their big sister. I scoot as much as I can in the small bed to make room for Rick and the other baby he's softly rocking, attempting to appease him until he can have his turn to feed.  
"Oh no, please don't you start too. Anyway, you did pass out. And for a moment," He stops briefly, a sheepish look on his face, "I panicked. I thought you were dead. But Corey said you were just exhausted. So, he let me cut the babies' cords to their placenta, showed me how to clean 'em up and swaddle them. Then we got you out of the tub, I washed you up, and got you in this bed. That was late last night, and you've been sleep ever since."  
"Why do I have so much pain? I don't even want to know what's going on down there." I grumble, smarting from the ache.  
"A little tearing. Corey gave you about 4 stitches. Said he'll be in today to talk to you about aftercare and all. But, everything went really well. You did amazing, baby, I'm proud of you." He summarizes, recounting the events of the evening.  
"Thanks, Rick. It was much harder than I remembered it being with Andre. Of course your babies would be difficult, just like you, huh?" I teased.  
"Am I difficult? I don't think so. You must have me confused with some other guy. But you better not!" Leaning over to steal a playful kiss from my lips, the little one in my arms doesn't appreciate the jostling and opens his eyes. Peeking down at him I realize that he has his father's eyes.  
"Do they both have your eyes? I see they have your unruly hair." I jokingly comment, unable to pull my gaze away from my sons' cherubic faces.  
"Yeah. My nose too. But you're in there, Mommy. Look at those cheeks, how big their eyes are, and those lips, that's my Chonne in there. Perfection." He grins, that naughty smile crossing his lips. "I told you I would induce your labor, didn't I?"  
"Oh please! I think it was Judith walking with me."  
"Whatever! So what do you want to name them? Don't you dare say Pooh and Piglet, or Mathias! Woman, you and Judith have terrible taste in names."  
"I don't know. How did you name Carl and Judith?"  
"I didn't get to name either of 'em. Lori named Carl after her father, and Carl named Judith after an old teacher of his. I'm not creative, whatever you pick is fine with me."  
"How about we name the oldest boy Richard after your first name, and the younger boy James after your middle name? That way they both have their father's name and his features."  
"You don't have to do that, Chonne," He says, blushing, but clearly flattered.  
"I like it. Richard Grimes Jr., and James Grimes it is."  
"Thank you, sweetheart. I like it too."

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Coming Home  
"Carl! Come take one of your brothers from your mother so I can help her into the house!" I yell up the stairs. It's early morning, very early, and I know my son is still sleep, but as soon as Corey said Michonne and the babies could come home, I scooped them up. I may have gone a little overboard, driving them from just three blocks over, but I know that after the boys' painful delivery the other day, she is still recovering and probably too tired to walk. And, simply put, I don't want her to have to lift a finger, to do anything she doesn't want to do. After watching this woman, my love, go through what she did, bringing those boys into this world, with nothing but her own willpower and strength, I am more in love and in awe of her than ever before.  
Add to that, Corey thinks she may be suffering from Post-Partum Depression. He said he took note of how overwhelmed she seemed, lethargic, melancholy. It was not something he expected from her given how put together she always seems, stalwart, logical, and that she had a baby before, but that it can happen to anyone. He advised that it may go away on its own, but she may need some encouragement and support, and that's what I'm here for. Given all of this, anything I can do to make things easy, stress free, and relaxing for her, I'm doing it  
Shirtless, bursting down the stairs, Carl comes into view, grumbling at the early wake up call. "Dad, you didn't tell me Mom and the babies were coming home today."  
"I know. Corey told me just a little while ago, so here we are. Come on, I need your help."  
Coming down the front steps, exiting the house, I stop short, a broad smile across my face, taken aback by the sight of her, as though I hadn't just seen her moments before. Standing before me is my wife in her short, blue, cotton nightgown, next to the car at the curb, attempting to walk towards the house, with both babies in her arms. She makes a beautiful, maternal picture, one that instantly hits me like cupid's bow to the heart, but I need her to let us help her. Always trying to do things on her own, I'm going to have to remind her that Corey said she needs to take it easy, relax, and let her body, and her stitches heal.  
Honestly though, if it wasn't so early in the morning, I would have Aaron come take her picture. To capture and carry with me always the beauty of this moment. That is how arrestingly stunning she is. Standing there, the sun against her back, my boys nestled against her bosom, she's the post-apocalyptic Madonna. Maybe in a more voluptuous and arousing package, but just as divine. The nightgown, one of her favorites, is no longer snug across her stomach, but it still is in other places. The thin spaghetti straps and lattice top provocatively hug and lift her much fuller breasts, almost to the point of spilling over the top. My wife has much more than a handful now, and my mouth waters at the thought of their warm plushness in my mouth, the sweet softness in my hands. No longer tight with the bursting fullness of my sons, her stomach is not completely flat, but it has definitely gone down, and draws a striking contrast to the petite cinch of her waist, against the wide curve of her womanly hips. Her dusky skin is glowing with a dewy brush of sweat from the early heat of the day. Stopping just about mid thigh, the nightgown billows in the wind, showcasing the sexy length of her thick thighs and long legs. And with her hair up, knotted atop her head, her delicate swanlike neck showcases the classic beauty of her face. A face blessed with eyes the color of the deepest dark roast, and the most kissable juicy lips I have ever had the pleasure of tasting.  
Snapping out of my lustful perusal of Michonne, I'm back in action. "Chonne, what are you doing? Wait! Let Carl and I help you." I rush over to her, taking the chunkiest of the two boys, Richard Jr., or Junior as he's become known, from her.  
"I can do it, Rick, you don't have to." She says in a quiet, tired voice. "Morning, Carl. Where's your shirt? Where's Judith?" She asks, looking from his naked torso to the front door of the house in confusion.  
"Hi, Mom. Welcome home." Carl says, reaching out to take Jamie from his mother, and holding tightly to the tiny bundle. Leaning down he places a kiss to her cheek, and responds. "She's in the house still sleep. Maggie and Hershel got here really late last night, and she was up playing well past her bed time."  
"That's nice. It will be good to see her and Hershel. It's been a while."  
Snugly carrying Junior in one arm, I've got my other arm around Michonne's waist, keeping her tiny body close to mine. With a light touch around my waist for support, she's walking gingerly up the stairs beside me.  
"Take your time, baby." I remind her, excited to have her and the boys home, our full family all under the same roof.  
Entering the house, she stops in the door and takes a look around, gasping a little in surprise, as she surveys the changes that have occurred over the two days since she has been at the infirmary. The house is clean, and there are gifts everywhere. They have been pouring in ever since her delivery day walk to the infirmary. Though most folks don't have much more than anyone else around here, it was heart warming to see people bringing whatever they had, food, homemade goods, letters, cards, whatever, just to say congratulations and to welcome the babies. Tobin who is a fairly good carpenter brought over two small wooden cradles for the boys, that are setup next to the couch. Laid inside of each are homemade pillow like mattresses, and a few knitted blankets that one of the ladies made and brought over. Then there are beeswax candles, scented with rose oil, sitting on the island in the kitchen. They are a new addition, and I have no clue who brought those over, along with a bouquet of roses that accompany them. This is all in addition to the food and gifts that were brought over to the infirmary.  
"Oh wow! Where did all of this come from? I thought there was already so much at the infirmary." Tears glossing her warm brown eyes, elegant fingers to her lips, she looks to me and smiles. "I can't believe everyone did this for us."  
"They did this for you. Everyone loves you, Chonne, you know that." Kissing her cheek, I usher her over towards the couch so she can get a better look at the cradles. Running her fingers over the smooth sanded wood, admiring Tobin's fine craftsmanship, she is temporarily speechless. Despite her lack of words, the tears continue to sporadically fall in diminutive drops across her cheeks. Corey told me to expect this. That sometimes the decrease from the pregnancy hormones can contribute to a feeling of sudden emotion, sometimes sadness, even in the midst of such happiness. I think that may be a part of it, but I think there may be something else there as well. Something I have never seen in my lady before, but whatever it is I'm still with her. I will help her through it.  
The depression is one of the reasons I'm glad that not only is Maggie here to help out, but that Gabriel visited with her at the infirmary, and that Corey spent some time with her as well. Throughout her pregnancy he has been a big help, and I'm ashamed to say that I was less than welcoming to him in the beginning. But, his advice and guidance has been invaluable, so far, so I will continue to listen. One of the things that Corey suggested, is for her to take advantage of the sunny days we are enjoying this summer. It's still very hot, and the sun can apparently do amazing things for one's mood and overall health. I have taken a lounger from one of the empty houses, and placed in the back yard for her. I hope she will take advantage of it, as I desperately want this to be as enjoyable a time for her as it is for me. But again, I think I have figured out why this is entirely bittersweet for her.  
"It's all wonderful, and so kind. We have to figure out how to thank everyone, Rick."  
"Of course. Are you hungry? I know it's early still. Or do you want to take a nap? You just fed the boys, and they're napping right now, so nothing to worry about there." I ask, searching her face for some inkling of what she wants to do.  
"Is it ok if I just lay down here on the couch? Take a quick nap? You can lay the boys here in their cradles so I can hear them if they wake up. I'm just really tired." She says, leaning to the side and slowly lowering her body down on the couch.  
"Sounds good." Placing Junior in one of the cradles, I nod for Carl to lay Jamie in the other. Grabbing the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, I shake it out, and gently cover her relaxed form with it. Crouching down in front of her I kiss her full sweet lips, and wipe the remainder of the wetness her tears left behind from her cheeks. "I'm gonna run upstairs and shower, then I will come down and fix some breakfast. And, I think Maggie and Hershel will be over a little later. Yell if you need something. I don't want you doing too much, ok? Take it easy for a little while."  
"Yeah, Mom. Holler if you want something." Carl yells, heading back upstairs. His loud voice causes the boys to rustle and fuss a little bit. I hold my breath, hoping they settle themselves back down. Knowing they will be back up in two hours to eat, like clockwork, I need to make the most of this window to get cleaned up and everyone fed, before I need to help my wife with feeding. Clenching my jaw at the carelessness that Carl sometimes displays, I have to close my eyes to collect myself for a moment.  
A small lazy smile ghosts across Michonne's lips, as she's settling in to doze off to sleep. A few mumbles of words escape her, "Ok. I'll be right here." With that she closes her eyes.

Heading back downstairs, not even thirty minutes later, I look to the couch and the cradles to check in on Michonne and the boys. Junior is still sleep, flat on his back, swaddled tightly. Jamie on the other hand, is wide awake, quietly looking around, cooing to himself. I've only known them for two days, but I can already see a little of their own personalities peeking through. Junior is like me, he's fire. When he wakes up, when he's hungry, and when he's wet he's hollering to let you know. He's got a little temper, but he's also easy to satisfy if you give him what he wants. That will serve him well in this world where sometimes it's simply a matter of survival, kill or be killed. On the other hand, Jamie is like his mama, simply cool. He'll give you some time to get to him, just don't take too long. He doesn't fuss much, and he's always watching, learning, absorbing his surroundings. As Carl observed yesterday, he's very chill. Of course it's still early, and things may change, but it's interesting to notice.  
And to be honest, I'm in love with these boys, my boys. They are some cute little guys. While Michonne thinks they resemble me the most, carrying my dark curly hair, eye color and hawkish nose, when I look at their little faces all I see is her. The wide set of their big eyes, their full cheeks and lips, the dusky tint of their skin, a clear nod to their mother. It's all her, and I love that every time I, or anyone looks at them they will see her. Her body did something selfless and amazing to care for them and deliver them here safely, so all of the honor and glory of their cherubic likeness should belong to her.  
Seeing that Jamie and Junior are fine, and not in need of any immediate attention, I make my way into the kitchen, wondering where Michonne has gotten off to. Still healing from her stitches, I seriously doubt she made it up the stairs on her own. Opening the refrigerator to see what I can make for breakfast, I hear hushed voices coming from the open window by the front porch. I can't quite make out the angry bass of the male voice, but I can hear my wife's calm whisper asking for whoever it is to keep it down. Her plea instantly peaks my interest and I move closer to the window to try and make out the conversation.  
"Sorry, I didn't realize my voice was so loud. I just came by to see if you got the flowers, and the candles I left here for you. I didn't want to bring them by the infirmary, and just left them on the porch last night."  
"It's ok. You just need to keep your voice down because the boys are sleeping here in the living room. I didn't realize those things were from you. Thank you."   
"You're welcome. The roses came from the bulbs you planted in my backyard. Remember?"   
"Yes. They turned out beautiful. We didn't even think they would grow. But they did. How nice." She remembers, a whimsical lilt to her voice.  
"Like us. They just needed time to mature, to grow, to turn into something beautiful."  
"What do you mean, Scott? Are we still talking about the roses?" Nervousness is now in her voice, evident by the way she clears her throat.   
"I told you then, Michonne, when I asked you to marry me. I loved you then, I love you now. If you had moved in when I asked you to, when you planned, we could have turned out as beautiful as those roses. Those babies could have been ours. They would have been ours. I wanted to give you a family, just like we talked about… This should have been our life, Michonne. Not you and Rick's. You know that." Scott says, dismissing her nervousness, asserting his point.  
"Scott, that is all in the past. I'm sorry I hurt you, I really am. You are such a wonderful guy, and you helped me so much when I got here. But, things turned out the right way, the way they were supposed to. I never could have really walked away from Rick. He's in my blood, he just is."  
He scoffs at her admission, continuing to plead his case. "Michonne, the day is going to come when you realize that he can't love you like you deserve. He can't make you happy, and be what you need. It's not his fault, he just doesn't know how to love a woman like you. He might be interested now, but when you were with me, who was he with? He was busy killing Pete to get to Jessie. That's what he likes, weak, needy women. That's not you, Michonne. And when he's tired of you not needing him, the next chick who does is where he'll be. But, that's ok because when he does mess up, I'll be there for you, and your kids."  
"Wait a minute, Scott, I-" She says, but he cuts her off in desperation.   
"I love you, Michonne. I try so hard not to, to forget about what we had, but then I see you, and it burns me up all over again, how he took you from me. I miss you, your laugh, your smile, your kisses. Do you miss me? Do you ever think about me? Hmm. When he's not around, do you remember how happy we were, trying to find our way together? How we made each other feel?"  
I can't listen anymore, quietly spying on their conversation. Rage is building in the core of me, rushing through my veins, dangerously engulfing me in its flames. Attempting to calm myself, to not create a situation with the babies sleeping in the other room, I take a few breaths. Making the mistake of looking through the blinds and out to the porch, I see that Scott is holding Michonne's hand, rubbing his thumb across it, and there is nothing else I can do. Like I've been given new batteries, my body jumps into action, swinging open the front door, charging out onto the porch. Marching directly up to Scott, I haul my fist back and punch him in his jaw, feeling the satisfying crack against my knuckles. He's taller than I am, and has a few pounds on me, he doesn't go down, but staggers backwards. I caught him off guard, he's hurt, and the savage anger his words planted in my head have me poised to kill. Head hung over, he's clutching his jaw as blood leaks from his busted lip. Catching sight of him now weakened has my adrenaline firing, and my next instinct is to completely obliterate him. Clenching my fist, I'm growing angrier at the feeling of tenderness in my knuckles caused by the punch.  
Something stops me though. The soft grasp of my wife's gentle hand soothes the beast, and pulls me from the brink of utter madness. "Rick…" Her voice calls to me, breaking through the cloud of rage imprisoning my head and heart.  
"Go in the house, Chonne." I command, my sights steady on Scott. Even though I can feel her calming presence and touch on my arm, I can't back down. Every fiber of my being is unable to relinquish the passionate fury smoldering within me, from seeing him hold her hand, and hearing him profess his love to my wife. I want to listen to her, but I can't.  
"Please, sweetheart. Let's go inside. Ok?" She begs, tenderness in every word, drawing my attention to her. Making eye contact with me, never once looking away, she addresses him with an abrupt terseness. "Scott, leave."  
"He's only out here ready to fight because he knows I'm right, Michonne! I'm the better man for her, Rick. If you really knew her and loved her, you would know that, you'd let her go." Scott angrily screams, no longer trying to keep his voice down.  
Swinging my focus back to Scott, I tilt my head to the side, squinting my eyes, gathering my thoughts. "I'll kill you if you come around my wife or children again. Mine. I suggest you forget her, forget she exists. Do you understand me?" I promise him, and I intend to keep my promise. My wife's presence, stroking my arm with one hand, hand over my heart with the other, is diminishing my anger. I'm still anchored in place though, tensely prepared to continue this fight.  
"I'm not going anywhere. When you fuck up, just like before, I'll be waiting." He responds in defiance. Looking from my violent glare, and over to Michonne, his eyes soften. Standing up straighter, his anger more subdued, he addresses her directly. "I will never forget you, Michonne. I love you still."  
After Scott left, Michonne and I went back into the house. Surprisingly, Junior was still sleep, and Jamie was still unbothered. But Carl was waiting in the kitchen, his steely gaze on the door, and like his father, ready for a fight. Commenting in an emotionless voice, that she just needed to rest, Michonne asked Carl to help her up the stairs, and for me to watch the babies. At the bottom of the steps, I witnessed her haltingly make her ascension with Carl's help, then turn right towards our bedroom.  
Sitting on the couch next to the babies, I'm once again forced to confront my own shit. Self-awareness is a hell of a thing, and being with Michonne has allowed me to embrace, to really take stock of who I am, who I want to be. On the one hand I'm frustrated that the whole Jessie debacle still clings to me like the annoying spray of a skunk. But on the other hand, the faulty way I handled it, and more importantly the way I went about everything with Michonne was not entirely to the right. When Michonne helped me out of the dazed craziness this place had me in, it was like having blinders removed, I could see everything so clearly. Looking upon my best friend, I could see her, who she really was, who she was meant to be in my life, and I wasn't going to lose her. I had to have her. Once my mind was set on that, I did go after her. Even though I sensed some hesitance, a sign I obviously misread as her being with someone else, it didn't matter. There was a part of me that always knew that we belonged together. That the yearning I had for her, that I always kept secreted away, was purely mutual, she had to feel the same way.  
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, I was finally ready to take a leap of faith with her, to get moving on this thing that started in my heart months ago. I took advantage of every opportunity for us to be together. We lived in the same house, there was already a domestic connection, and a heightened level of comfortability between us. We shared everything from soap to toothpaste, and through all of those reignited connections I felt like we were rebuilding our friendship that had suffered a damaging blow, and were fostering a more intimate link.  
Reaching down to pick up my baby boy, Jamie, I recognize how simplistic his life and needs are in comparison to my own, to those of any adult really. In a gross over simplification, I thought that one day, like an epiphany Michonne would see past my missteps, and only see me. She would look at me, and realize that we had made it to the same place at the same time. That we both would figure out this love thing together, and that I would finally have what I wanted, Michonne. What I never accounted for, what Daryl so kindly reminded me of, was that Michonne is amazing, and beautiful, and not just to me, but to others as well. My lady is magic, and there are indeed other men who understand this, and want that magic for themselves. Who wouldn't want a unicorn? One coin from the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow? Even a piece, a speck of something so majestically untouchable?  
Selfishly, I claimed all of her. I scooped up every ounce of love and affection she offered me, and I've never looked back to see how many others were left behind like so much collateral damage. When I finally had the nerve to clutch her hand on this same couch a year or so ago, to grab a hold of that dangling brass ring, my heart nearly bursting from my chest, I took the plunge of my life, and greedily devoured her. She was mine. She is mine.  
Easily I can dismiss his claim that I don't know how to love her, that I would ever abandon her. How could I ever? Now that I have tasted her, been blessed by the true warmth and depth of her love, I am bewitched, there is no other woman for me, ever. Who could compare? No one, because there is no comparison. Not in my heart.  
But, being honest with myself it just never even crossed my mind, never pierced the armor around my selfish heart, that maybe I wasn't what she needed. Is it possible that Scott was right, that because he was there for her when she needed him, and I wasn't, that he was the man best qualified to treasure her magic? Following this dark train of thought, I have to even wonder if everything I have been planning around this surprise wedding for her, is really just a way to lock down a commitment I don't deserve in the first place?  
I hate the vacillation his charges are bringing back to the forefront of my mind. Haven't Michonne and I struggled with this back and forth, the doubt, the jealousy enough? I don't want anything to do with it, this is not going to be a running theme between my love and I. I'm making a conscious choice to let this shit go, for the sake of us, for our family.  
Hugging my son close to my heart, inhaling the newness emanating from him, I take his patient smile, so very much like his mother's, as a positive sign. A sign that with similar lips, she has loved me, and promised me that I could trust in her love, in her fidelity. And I do. I have to. My deepening addiction to her won't allow for any other outcome. So that settles it. I'm not going to focus on the negatives, or how I feel about them anymore. From now on, I'm putting the jealous feelings aside, and I'm going to focus on my lady, the woman who has my heart, and has given me everything.  
Hearing the hungry wails of my other son, Junior, quickly ramping up, I lean down and scoop him up as well, ensuring to support his neck. Marveling at the identical likeness of my boys, my head turns toward the stairs, wondering if Michonne is ready to feed them.  
Making my way up the stairs, entering our bedroom, I see her laid demurely on her side, with her back to the door. Soft cries waft over her shoulders, and I can sense the weight of the immense sadness emanating from her. Rounding the bed over to my side, I call her name, gaining her attention. Staring up at me, her eyes are wet, stormy, filled with sorrow. Needing to touch her, to help alleviate or shoulder as much of the burden of her melancholy as I can, I gently lay the boys in front of her. I slowly run my hand cautiously from her shoulder to her arm, caressing up and down. "I think they're hungry, it's time for them to eat. I can bottle feed them though, if you'd like to rest some more." I nervously eek out, trying to assess her receptiveness to our presence.  
Wiping her face, a glint of happiness sparks in her face, though fleeting, I can see that something about the thought of the closeness of her time with the boys brings her joy. "Yes. I will feed them. It actually makes me feel better, I think. The warmth of their little bodies so close to mine. Bonding." Dragging her body up to a sitting position against the headboard, she drops one of the straps of her nightgown, releasing her heavy, full breast. "Sit with us? Place Junior on your chest while I feed Jamie. Remove your shirt. Skin to skin, ok?" She asks, making room for me to sit on the other side of the bed.  
"Sure. Whatever I can do, Chonne." I agree, grateful that she doesn't appear angry with me after the altercation with Scott. While I have decided to let it go, I can't help but wonder if she has come to the same conclusion. Or does she need to talk about it? Maybe it will be cathartic for her to say something, for us to hash it out. "So, do you want to talk about earlier? Is that why you were crying?"  
"He's hurting, Rick, and part of that hurt is my fault. I don't know how much of our conversation you heard, but there was a time when he and I did discuss how to move forward, together, to build a life, a family. He did ask me to marry him. There was a time when we both wanted that. I feel sorry for him because deep down I knew that if you and I ever had a chance, then there was no way I could be the one to give that to him. That's why I never said yes to his proposal. And well, that's exactly what happened, isn't it? You came for me, and I hurt him. It agonizes me that he's so crushed, that I hurt him. You don't know him, Rick, but he has lost a lot too."  
Thinking over her words, I prop myself up at the headboard as well. I remove my shirt, and unwrap Junior from his snug swaddling blankets. Happy to be free, he throws his little arms in the air, yawning and stretching. Chuckling at how demonstrative my boy is, I also take off his t-shirt onesie, and place him against my chest. Rhythmically running my hand across his tiny head, admiring the feathery softness of his curls, I finally respond to her admission. "I understand, Chonne. And I'm sorry I hit him, that it escalated that far. I heard him say he loves you, and saw him touching you, and I just couldn't stop myself. I'm trying to be better. I am." Glancing over at her feeding Jamie, I tilt my head to catch her eyes. "I don't want to keep doing this, keep riding this carousel of uncertainty. Going around in never ending circles about Jessie, and Scott, and whatever the hell happened before you belonged to me, and I belonged to you. My focus is on you, on what you need, this family, our future. Whatever he said doesn't matter to me anymore, unless you say it matters. Otherwise I'm done with it."  
"Me too, Rick. Me too. I'm tired of it." Distress is vanishing from her eyes with my admission, and her declaration. Reaching over to my face, she runs her graceful fingers through my beard with a subtle touch, then runs her thumb across my lips.  
Kissing her thumb, I ask, "What can I do for you, Chonne? Hm? Why are you so sad then, crying? What do you need from me?" I beg, needing to do something to fully assuage the general malaise that has befallen her since the boys' birth.  
Letting her hand fall in between us, to grasp hold of mine, her head falls back and she closes her eyes. "Andre was a summer baby, too. I don't know what time of the year, month or date it is right now, I don't know if anyone is keeping track anymore, I'm not. But, I remember that. The heat of that day was the same as the day the boys were born. The ghost of his features is so apparent in some of theirs. My lips expressed on each of their faces, three of my boys." Stopping to allow more tears to run unabashedly down her face, she looks over at Junior, then briefly down to Jamie, both with their eyes also focused on her. "It destroys me. I'm sorry, it just does, and I don't want to ruin how joyous this all is for you. But, the memories of my sweet little peanut, my Andre, Rick, it's overwhelming. I didn't know how this would feel. The happiness these boys bring me, crashing against the sadness of losing him. It all just hit me that first day, and I'm trying to shake it, Rick, I promise I am. But, it-it…it's going to take some time I guess." Taking her hand from mine, she wipes at her eyes.  
"Shhhh, shhh. It's ok. I get it." I reach out for her hand again. Grasping it tightly, I bring it to my lips, lovingly kissing her palm and each of her slender fingers. "Tell me and the boys about him. I want to know everything about my son Andre. The boys want to know their brother Andre. Tell us everything. You don't have to, but you also don't have to keep it all in. You don't have to suffer with all of those warring feelings on your own. Let's work through it as a family." I urge, seeking to unburden her the only way I can. "You know I would kill for you, Chonne, no question. But, I can't shoot this problem with my Colt. I can't hack away at it with my hatchet, or punch it with my fists. But, I can listen. You can lean on me. Shit, I always lean on you. You always keep me sane, let me do the same for you." I lightly laugh, wanting to inject some lightness into the conversation.  
"Thank you, Rick. I will, give me some time, but I will." She nods, a tiny smile on her lips as she looks at Jamie finishing his meal, eyes lazily drooping as he's falling into a milk induced sleep. "Let's swap. You burp Jamie, and I'll feed my greedy little Junior."

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

2 mos. Post delivery  
"Rick. Rick, honey, I need you to let me up. I've got to use the restroom."  
"Hm?"  
"I have to pee."  
Incoherently mumbling something, Rick moves a little. Rousing from his deep sleep, he slightly cracks one eye open. I hate to wake him, loving the feel of his heavy body partially over mine, as I lay on my back, our legs intertwined. His arm is possessively draped across my chest, hand curling around my neck, fingers splayed in my hair at the nape. If I didn't have to pee, I wouldn't bother him, but I've been laying awake now for the past half hour, running my fingers through his curls, thinking about everything that needs to get done today, and I can't hold it any longer.  
Closing his eyes again, Rick hasn't moved to get up. Instead, I can feel his fingers massaging the back of my neck, and the weight of his cock growing steely against my thigh. Moving closer to my face, Rick places his warm lips on my cheek, leaving a trail of wetness from his soft kisses. In between pecks, my ears pick up the muffled demand of his words spoken against my cheek, "Stay right here." Increasing the intensity of his kisses, they escalate from quick and light, to more aggressive bites and nibbles, no longer hovering near my cheek, but now migrating to my jaw, my chin, and now my neck. "Let's just stay in the bed a little longer, baby. Ok?" He rasps, voice gravelly and deep from sleep. In and out, deeply inhaling the scent of me, as if in a trance, his face is pressed into my neck, and I can feel the flutter of his long eyelashes. "Please, Chonne?"  
"I would love to, but I have to pee, Rick. And, there is a lot to do for the gathering today." I respond in between my own heavy pants and quiet moans of arousal. Arching my back at the tingling sensation his voice, kisses, and touch are causing, I close my own eyes to savor the heat of his breath, the gratifying promise of his caress. Rick and I have not had sex since the boys came two months ago, but I'm more than ready, and I know he is as well. His eyes often linger for prolonged periods of time, full of lust, traversing the full length of my still petite, but fuller, curvier body. Hands roam for extended touches and grasps, often greedily gripping handfuls of my ass and hips. His kisses are more aggressive, hungry. And I want to feed that unfed hunger so sincerely, my own body perilously starved of the delight of his sensual and satisfying lovemaking. For now, though, all of that pent up need remains unmet.  
It just seems like there has not been a good time for us to pick that part of our lives back up yet. Corey cleared me for sex two weeks ago when the bleeding finally stopped, and he noted that my stitches have healed nicely. But with the babies in the room with us, making it easier for us to manage feedings, and Judith climbing in bed with us, a tad jealous of the babies, there has not been an opportunity given the lack of privacy. Last night was the first night that we have had our bed to ourselves in awhile. Rick finally had enough of Judith's wild sleeping, frequently catching both of us unaware in our sleep with more than a few kicks and punches from her little arms and legs, and sent her back to her own room. With the boys now sleeping longer in between feedings, I think they may be able to move into their cribs in the room next door soon. I'm hopeful that these positive first steps in making our bedroom a private place for us again, moves us towards being able to find the time to reconnect sexually. I desperately miss being with him in that way.  
"I'll release you on one condition…" he raises his index finger.  
"Rick! I have to pee!" I playfully whine, squirming at the fullness of my bladder.  
"One condition, Chonne. You come right back to me afterwards. None of that let's get the day started mess. Early bird Judith isn't even up yet. Jamie and Junior are over there in their bassinets still sleep. So you come on back and let me love on you some more."  
"We'll see…?"  
"Don't make me have to come after you." He growls in my ear, knowing how much that turns me on.  
"Ok. A few more snuggles, then we have to get up. We have a lot going on today. Deal?" I offer, attempting to keep him on track with the day's schedule.  
"Deal." He reluctantly agrees, rolling over to his back, releasing me.  
Without the warmth of his body over mine, I can feel the warm fall breeze flitting in through the open windows, dancing across my skin. Peeking through the curtains, taking in the dusky blush of early dawn, I see leaves are drifting on the wind, gracefully wafting to the ground into piles of orange and brown, signaling the beginning of fall.  
Quickly peeing and washing my hands, I take a brief peek over to the boys, taking note that they are peacefully sleeping in their bassinets on their backs. Quietly I tiptoe back towards the bed. As soon as I get within arm's reach, Rick reaches his hand out for me, guiding me back to bed with him. Pulling me back into the heat of his body, facing each other on our sides. Clad only in his boxers, his leg is thrown over me again, the hair tickling my own legs. Arms tightly encircle my waist, hands squeezing my now bigger ass. Content beyond belief, nuzzling in closer to him, I'm enjoying the snug possessiveness of his hug, his squeezing.  
Leaning further into him, head nestled under his chin, I ask, "Do you think there are enough chairs and tables for the food and for people to sit?"  
"Yes."  
"Ok good. I was worried about that. I think this party is a good thing. We can introduce the babies to everyone, and all of the communities can catch up. It should be fun before the weather gets too cold for traveling."  
"I agree." Rick answers disinterestedly, apparently distracted with playing with a few of my dreads with one hand, running them through his fingers. Still clutching my ass with the other.  
"And I have a few things I want to discuss with everyone regarding how each community can move their borders further out progressively. I think that now that the fighting has stopped it's time to keep going, rebuilding. You know there are a lot of universities and government buildings here in the DMV area, we need to start moving into DC, see what's there. I don't know, Rick, taking this time off with the boys has me thinking of all the things we need to do to ensure their future. Ideas just keep coming." Excitedly my thoughts spill out.  
Since I have been home mostly the last two months, trying to get a rhythm down for taking care of my family, and myself, the concept of rebuilding has been heavy on my mind. This life, these kids, Rick's and my relationship, if any of these things are going to grow, thrive, survive, we have to make a way for it, and these ideas are the way. Sometimes I will be cooking, or showering, or trying to fall asleep and an idea will just come to me. A basic education or training plan, exploring methods to re-industrialize our society. Sustainable energy sources to research. Revitalizing communication methods, phones. I've always been like this though. I suppose this quasi return to a semblance of civility is kicking my brain back into gear. When I was a lawyer, in the old world, I would get the best ideas for how to argue a case, or a statute to research, a position to take, case law to look up, usually at the oddest of times. It's happening again, and I suppose it's a signal that I'm feeling like my old self. While I love being a sword wielding bad ass, I also miss this part of myself. I'm happy to see some of the old Michonne return from the background where my survival instincts hid her away. Fighting to live and eat for today is one thing, developing ways to live and feed future generations is another.  
"Whatever you want, Chonne." Rick distractedly responds, no longer playing with my hair, instead he's moving his hand down to my throat, which he knows is a very sensitive spot. In a loose grasp, he's rubbing his calloused fingers over my throat, around my neck, thumb gravitating upwards to caress over my chin, my lips.  
"Rick, what are you doing?" I ask, raising my head to make contact with him, fully aware of exactly what he's doing.  
"I'm agreeing with you, because you're brilliant, and I'm enjoying the quiet time with my favorite girl, that's all. Once everyone is here it's gonna be a busy day. Gotta get my time in with you while I can." He whispers, moving his head for his soft lips to now nudge my ear, teeth lightly nipping.  
"You're right. I just have so many ideas, thoughts, plans, all congregating in my brain. And I want everyone to have a good time. There is a lot to celebrate." I pause, as his touch continues its exploration in a light graze, hovering over my breasts. "Right now, this is good, everything is good." I casually respond, drawing out the last part on a low breathy moan.  
"This is good." He agrees, rolling me over to my back and positioning himself between my legs. "This is better." He declares, kissing me, plying my lips open with his tongue. Deepening the kiss, my legs automatically wrap themselves around his narrow waist. Just as his hands move to push my night gown over my breasts, there is a knock at the door.  
"Mommy! Are you awake, Mommy? Daddy? Are you awake?" A little voice from the other side of the door yells.  
"Shit. Maybe if we don't answer she will think we are still asleep?" Rick offers, not stopping his ministrations.  
"If we don't answer, she will keep knocking and yelling and wake the boys anyway." I reason, running my fingers through his hair, and nipping at his bottom lip. "Come on, Grimes. Time to get the day started."

"That was a lot of fun, I'm glad we did this. Maybe it should be a yearly thing?" I say, packing up the face painting supplies I used during the day.  
"Yeah, that would be nice. I think it helps everyone feel settled to see us all thriving and getting along." Maggie distractedly responds, looking somewhere in the crowd over my head.  
"Agreed. Did you see everyone trying to dunk Daryl in the booth? Of course Rosita would be the only one who hit the target and dunked him!" I laugh, remembering the surprise on Daryl's face when Rosita stepped up to throw the balls at the target, getting a bull's-eye on her first try.  
"I know! And she's so big now right? Can you imagine the hell raiser this kid is going to be? I can't wait!"  
"Yeah, I know. Carl said if it's a girl she can be one of the twins' girlfriend. There aren't a lot of kids right now, so he could be right." I shrug, standing up and grabbing the box of supplies, looking out over the crowd to see what has Maggie's attention.  
"Her and Daryl are a legit thing now?" Maggie asks, stepping into my line of vision and scrunching her face up in confusion. The same confusion that all of us share actually.  
"I don't really know. She is staying in his apartment, but she said it's just in case she needs help. I think they are making their own rules to their relationship, and that's a good thing. As long as they work it out between them." I reason. Moving my head to look past Maggie and around the crowd, I can't locate my husband and kids. "Somehow I missed where Rick and the kids got off to. When he took off did he say anything to you?"  
"Um yeah, he said he has the kids and needed to check on something before the dinner tonight." Maggie replied, but with a weird tinge to her voice.  
"Oh? Really? Ok. Guess I'll head home and start getting myself ready then."  
"No! Um, I have something for you. It's back at the house I'm staying at, it's a dress I think will look good on you. Why don't you come with me and get dressed with me, and then you can meet Rick and the kids at dinner? We haven't gotten a chance to spend any girl time together in a while." Maggie doesn't wait for my response, just grabs my hand and begins leading me towards the house she is staying in while her and Hershel are here. With her other hand she is pushing Hershel in his stroller.  
"It's just, a little odd that he didn't say anything to me. Just kind of disappeared while I was face painting. Don't you think it's odd, Maggie?" I question, startled by her sudden movement, pulling on my hand, but following her lead no less.  
"Rick is weird sometimes, right? All guys are. Glenn definitely was. Don't worry about it." She hurriedly says. Looking back at me briefly, she shrugs off my concern. "Wait until you see this dress!"  
Entering the house behind Maggie, I'm growing a little concerned about Rick and the kids. It's got to be near feeding time for the boys, and Rick knows they like to eat exactly every three hours, or Junior especially, will have a fit. The more I think about it, the more anxious I'm becoming, and I decide that I'm just going to grab this dress from Maggie and head home.  
"Come on upstairs, Michonne." Maggie shouts from the steps as she begins heading upstairs.  
"Wait-"  
"Can you bring Hershel with you please?" She questions, cutting off my protest.  
Turning to Hershel, quietly laying in his stroller on his back, foot in his mouth, I lean over and pickup the chubby baby. "Your mama is behaving very strange isn't she, sweetpea?" I ask Hershel, smiling at him, adoring the rosy tint to his fat cheeks. A hint of pain pierces my heart recognizing his near identical resemblance to his father. From the jet black hair that covers his head, to the shiny coal of his eyes, he is completely Glenn. Along with that pain, it's sometimes hard to remember that he has never met his father, and never will, especially when he resembles him so much more than any of us expected. Maggie always seems so well put together, handling the loss of Glenn better than some of us, but there have been times over the last year or so when she has allowed that façade to fade, and has shared the pain that sometimes threatens to obliterate her calm with its absoluteness. The finality of their great love affair makes Rick and I that much more grateful for the love we have found in each other, but also in the love we have found in building and growing our family. Everyone is not so lucky anymore.  
Taking my time following Maggie's orders, I head up the stairs as directed, laughing at Hershel blowing raspberry kisses at me. Entering the bedroom where Maggie is, my attention is instantly drawn to the gold colored lace dress laid on the center of the bed, a pair of gold jeweled flats accompanying it.  
"Wow, Maggie! You were right, this dress is beautiful. Where did you find it?" Transferring Hershel over to one hip, I reach down and run my fingers over the delicate lace of the dress. It's long, with what appears to be a nude colored sheath as the base. Sleeveless, with a deep v neckline, it's overlaid in gold lace, and cinched in the middle with a jeweled belt.  
"I found it in one of the closets at Barrington House. Maybe they used it as a costume or something." She wonders aloud, then continues. "But when I saw it I immediately thought of you."  
"Why me? It's been so long since I have worn anything like this. That's a long forgotten life, Maggie." I laugh, still taken with the beauty of the dress, and the distant memory of a time too far behind me to clearly recall.  
"Because, I think it would look good on you, and that Rick would like to see you in it." She quickly offers, picking the dress up and holding out her hand to offer it to me. "Tonight."  
"Wait. First, I don't think with all the weight I'm still carrying from the boys I could fit this little dress, and second why tonight? I would be the only person dressed up like a queen, while everyone else is wearing jeans. Thanks, Maggie, but that would be silly." I politely dismiss her request, taking a seat on the bed, turning my attention to Hershel.  
"It's a celebration, Michonne. Everyone is dressing up as much as they can. I am. I have a dress for myself as well. So, don't be stubborn, at least try it on."  
Sighing, I raise my eyes back towards her, looking from her to the proffered dress, and honestly curious about how I would look in it, I give in. "I'll try it on, but that's it." I relent, secretly excited by the thought of it.  
Placing Hershel on the floor, and handing him a few toys that were on the bed, I take the dress from Maggie, and head to the bathroom. Hanging it on the back of the door, and quickly removing my t-shirt, bra, boots, and jeans, I take a moment to peruse my body, the changes it has undergone, the scars and wounds it has survived. Eyes hover over the gunshot wound to my thigh from where Merle shot me. A scar under my left eye from my fight on the balcony with one of Jadis' people.  
My body endured so many damaging blows, but it has also experienced the labors of love and and truly adoring affection. There are the thin striated lines, stretch marks, across my hips from where they expanded, swelling each day to accommodate my sons. The faint dark line that still runs down the middle of my stomach, remaining evidence of my pregnancies. The full ripeness of my breasts, now much larger than ever, abounding over the modest cup of my hands. And the blackberry peaks, now extended more than before from the daily life giving feedings for my boys. My body tells a story, of a woman who was once a pampered downtown lawyer, with a glass walled corner office, once a mother, still a mother, always a mother, now a warrior.  
But there is something about this dress, I realize, gently removing it from the hanger, and pulling it up over my frame. Staring at myself in the mirror I am awestruck, there are no words. My image is transformative, taking my mind back to a time when this was me. I would spend thousands of dollars on manicures, pedicures, waxes, massages, hair appointments, dresses like this one. In this world there are few traces of that life, that woman left. On most days she is gone. At this moment, her wide dark eyes stare back into my own in recognition that we are one in the same, she is still there. Hidden underneath the pain, the suffering, the killing, the blood, the walker guts, the tank tops, and tight pants, is that woman, daring herself to emerge.  
Knocking at the door, Maggie slowly opens it, peeking her head in. A wide grin covers her face, eyes lighting with recognition that she sees that woman too. "Oh my god, Michonne. You've always been beautiful, you just are, but that dress is amazing on you. Rick is going to die!" She exclaims, pushing fully into the restroom, carrying Hershel. Standing beside me, looking into the mirror at me, she begins to cry, tears falling from her eyes in fat swollen clumps. "I'm sorry. I just… You deserve this, we all do. This happiness, this future." She says, nodding her head at me.  
I don't quite understand the full extent of the meaning in her words, her reaction, but in some ways I get a part of it. We do deserve nice things, happiness, to feel like ourselves again. We have all had to become so tough, that we have sacrificed so much of our humanity, our softness in the name of survival. And this dress, well, it does look good on me, fantastic even. Snugly hugging the curves of my body, the rich gold color is dazzling against my dark skin, parting my supple breasts with the plunging v of the bodice, drawing the eye to my still relatively small waist, and the adorned belt pulling it all together.  
Draped in a red strapless sheath dress that stops at her knees, Maggie makes a striking picture of her own. The contrast of the dark red dress against her pale skin, and her dark hair, is a glamorous slightly vampish one, and not one I'm accustomed to seeing on Maggie. But, I can see it in her. She may have been a farmer's daughter, but there was a young vixen there too. A twenty something woman, exploring the world outside of her father's watchful eye. All of that comes across, though it's still cloaked somewhat in the demure leader, the strong fighter, and the grieving widow she has become.  
"You're right, we do, we all do. Thank you, Maggie. I am going to wear this dress. But I don't want Rick to die. Maybe just pass out for a few minutes!" I laugh, fingers over my lips, smirking at the thought of his response to seeing me like this. Turning to hug her and Hershel I can feel some of my old self coming out. "What about our hair, and makeup? My god, Maggie, this feels so weird!"  
"I do have some makeup, it's just lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara, but I think it will work. It's old, but it's still in good enough condition. Oh! And let me put your hair up like Bertie did that one time. Very elegant, you know, to go with the dress." In a flurry of movement, she rushes from the bathroom. Bouncing in her arms, Hershel begins to laugh, feeding on the jubilant mood emanating from his mother.  
Once we are both dressed, hair styled, and makeup applied, with lips colored a deep scarlet red, we head towards the front door. The day now headed towards dusk, I realize that I became so wrapped up in the excitement around getting dressed up, that I nearly forgot that I hadn't touched base with Rick and the kids since the fair. Stopping at the door, I turn to Maggie. "I need to head home before I go to dinner. To make sure they are ok. You and Hershel go ahead; I will see you there."  
Reaching around me to open the door, seemingly ignoring my statement, Maggie steps out and turns back to me. "Looks like your son is here to escort you to dinner anyway." With a big smile she moves away from the doorway so that I can see out. Standing at the bottom of the steps stands Carl, in a pair of jeans and a white button up shirt. Hair cut, he looks so much like his father that my breath catches in my throat.  
Holding his hand out to me, to help me down the stairs, my son's face holds a big grin of his own. "You look beautiful, Mom." Glancing over to Maggie, a look of bewilderment and surprise is all over my face. Recognizing it, Maggie ushers me towards Carl with a sweep of her hands. Deciding to play along, I descend the steps and take hold of Carl's offered hand with my own, which he promptly places around his arm.  
Checking my son out, fresh haircut and all, his dapper appearance has caught me off guard. "Carl! You look so handsome, and grown up. When did you have time to get a haircut? Where is your father?" I incredulously ask, questions falling from my lips in quick succession.  
"I'm taking you to him. This way, Mom." Carl answers on a smile, dazzling me again with his handsome likeness to his father.  
Leading me towards the center of town, where the community dinner is to be held, I begin to take notice that there are lanterns placed on the ground, lining a path ahead of us, from the street into the clearing near the gazebo. This is a nice touch, not something I thought of, and immediately I assume this must have been something Maggie came up with. Turning my head back towards the house looking for her, I see her and Hershel following close behind Carl and I in our brief procession.  
"Carl, what's going on? Did your dad have any problem with the kids?" I continue with the curious line of questioning as something just seems off. No one is milling about on the streets like they were earlier as the main festivities were going. There is no longer the sound of children playing, and the quiet stillness has me somewhat unnerved, despite the beautiful tranquility of the candlelit serenity.  
"Mom, just relax, you will see him and the kids in just a sec." Carl reassures me, patting my hand on his arm.  
Now following the lit path onto the clearing, there are mason jars with candles inside strung above, hanging from tree branches, illuminating the area in combination with the glow of the sun's dusky retreat. A glance around the clearing, approaching the gazebo, all of the attendants from today's earlier festivities are present, dressed in their finest clothes, separated on both sides of the steps, making a path. Halting, beginning to make sense of what this is, my eyes are everywhere. I find Maggie and Hershel, close behind me, tears glowing on her face again. In the crowd I pick out various faces I recognize, friends and family.  
My breathing deepens, pulse quickening, as the sound of the grass crunching under my slippered feet thunders in my ears, and is slowly overtaken by the gasp in my throat when I see him. At the end of the path is a sight my teary eyes never thought I would see, ever. It's like I'm in a dream. Friends and family have now fallen away, erased from the periphery, and all that exists is Rick. At the bottom of the steps of the gazebo, is the man I love. Clean shaven, hair cut in a neat short trim, curls tapered on the back and sides, he cuts a striking figure. Clad in a dark suit, with a crisp white shirt open at the collar, a tinge of chest hair peeking out, proudly poised and nervously rubbing his hand over his jaw, he is the most handsome man I have ever seen. With the sun descending, creating a colorful tapestry of reds, pinks and oranges, bursting across the sky behind him, I'm not certain that I'm not hallucinating. It's all so ethereal, only his touch, the feel of his rough hands grabbing a tight hold of my own as Carl delivers me to him, is able to bring me back from the mirage I surely imagined.  
Urging Carl to release me to him, the smell and feel of him is all I need to realize that not only is this a dream, but that this dream is real. Gazing into my eyes, I'm trapped by the hypnotic sapphire blues searching my own dark watery eyes.  
"Baby, you look so beautiful. I knew you would. Like the most exquisite dream." Taking a firm hold of my face with both hands, he kisses me with a hard press of his soft lips.  
"Uh, Rick, we're not at that part yet!" Father Gabriel exclaims, standing above us, inside the gazebo. Chuckles erupt from the surrounding crowd. Pulling away from Rick's lips at the sound, I look around, once again taking notice of the encompassing sights. Behind Rick stand Daryl and Morgan, dressed in jeans and button down shirts, much the same as Carl, each holding one of the twins. To my left are Maggie, Rosita, and Judith, who is holding a bouquet of wildflowers held together by a ribbon tied into a wide bow.  
Sheepishly, Rick turns his piercing gaze full of love, to Father Gabriel as though he is also just now realizing that we are not alone.  
Not wanting to fully break the spell of this moment I whisper to him, "You did this?"  
"For you. For us." He replies, his southern accent dripping with emotion.  
"Here, Mama. Hold these." Judith says, sidling up next to me, hand outstretched, offering the bouquet of flowers to me.  
"Thank you, princess. You look so pretty!" I choke out, emotion straining my own voice. My baby girl looks like a fairy princess in a white party dress that billows out in a bell shape, covering her legs down to her tiny feet.  
"You look like the queen in my books, Mama!" Judith says, her wide eyes replete with whimsy and excitement as she runs her little hands over the skirt of my dress.  
"Shall we get started?" Father Gabriel asks, again drawing our attention to him, standing alone in the gazebo, awaiting our ascension to join him I presume.  
Left arm tight around my waist, right hand holding my own right hand to his heart, Rick leads us up the stairs to the center of the gazebo. Strung above, crisscrossing over the ceiling of the gazebo, are small white lights. The darkness of the impending night creates a canvas for them to twinkle like a cluster of luminescent stars. Turning to face me, but not releasing his hold on my waist or my hand, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, Rick gestures with a sideways tilt of his head, for Father Gabriel to begin.  
"I know that in these trying times many of us struggle with faith, with belief in a power greater than ourselves. But, when I think of everything these two have endured on their journey together, how can I not believe in the greatest power of them all. The power of love. To love and to be loved is truly the most enduring gift we have. Whether you believe it's God's love, or the love of others, both its redemptive and rejuvenating power has brought us here today, celebrating the strength of its bond, evident in the devotion between these two people. Two people who found love in the decaying remnants of death, and through that love have formed and continue to grow a family." Looking out among the crowd, then back to Rick and I, Father Gabriel nods towards Rick and continues. "Rick, I know you have a few words you want to say to Michonne."  
Throughout Father Gabriel's speech Rick's eyes have never left my own, the warmth of his body, the touch of his hands, all remain a constant. As Gabriel prompts him to speak he pulls me even closer to him, crushing my body to his, lowering his forehead to my own. My senses are overrun with him, the clean smell of his skin and breath, the tight firmness of his chest against mine.  
In a voice meant just for me, but loud enough for everyone to hear, Rick proceeds. "Michonne, I have never been religious, but you alone make me a believer in everything, in the possibility of anything. At the lowest point in my life, you showed up like an angel, and saved me. You gave me life, hope. You brought such warmth back into my heart, my soul. You gave me your love, a family, these are the most precious things I have. A man like me doesn't deserve any of that, but I will never let you go, I'm too greedy to ever be without my piece of heaven, my Michonne. In return, my promise to you is simple. I am not a perfect man, but my love for you is. I will love and protect you, our family, this bond between us, for the rest of my days. Everything I am is because of you, and I give back to you all of the very best parts of me. Our love is everything to me, you are everything to me. Never doubt that, my dedication to this, to us. Or your place in my heart." Stopping to gather himself, tears rolling down the slope of his nose, his reddened cheeks. Rick finally breaks eye contact, moving his gaze over to Judith, then behind him to Carl and the boys. "I wanted us to get married at dusk, when the sun is setting, because that's what this is, our marriage. It's the end of a long day, of another life. And the beginning of something new, exciting, unknown. With you by my side, the greatest love story of my life is just beginning." Concluding his vows he turns to Carl, who hands him two rings. "I know that rings, jewelry, don't have the same value anymore. I get that. But I wanted you to have a constant reminder of my love for you, that my heart is forever yours." He states, taking my left hand, and placing the ring on my finger. Under the glow of the candles and white lights, the emeralds give off a dazzling brilliance, and the diamonds on the band appear like a lavish bejeweled halo.  
Admiring the ring, emotions caught in the cocoon of love this man has spun around us with his words, his embrace, at first I can do nothing but kiss him. Once again clutched in his embrace, I'm peppering him with delicate pecks over his cheeks, lips, chin, nose, eyes. I can't stop myself. Holding me tight, he doesn't protest, just soaks up my adoration of him. We are in our own world again, until Carl rushes up the stairs. Raising his hand, he pats his father on the back, breaking the spell Rick's vows have cast over us. Pulling his lips away from mine, he runs his hand over his face, attempting to control the flush of lust we both experience from my kisses.  
"Sorry," I apologize, looking around the crowd, all of a sudden feeling bashful at the stares of everyone in attendance, witnessing such a personal moment between Rick and I.  
"No need to apologize. Would you like to say something to Rick now, Michonne?" Gabriel asks, gesturing his hand for me to speak.  
Clearing my throat, I raise my eyes to Rick's, marveling at the rosy blossom of love covering the handsome man in front of me. "Yes. Um, sorry, I don't have anything prepared. I didn't know any of this was happening. I had no clue today was my wedding day." I chuckle, dropping my eyes momentarily, searching for the right words, mentally thumbing through my emotions to gift this man with every unspoken sentiment of love I'm experiencing in this moment. "How fitting that we get married at dusk, on such a beautiful fall day. Where some will see darkness in the setting of the sun, the death of summer's vibrance, just like you, I see the end of a solitary journey, and the beginning of the most beautiful adventure. Neither of us are perfect, Rick, but, you are perfect for me. How could I not love and adore a man who selflessly puts everyone else's needs before his own. Who would fight to the death, every day, with every breath in his body, to protect the people he loves. Who makes me feel like the most desired and loved woman in the world. Together our love is perfect, Rick. Because of that, my promise to you is simple. I will always love and protect you, our family, in this life and the next. My heart and devotion will always belong to you, because my soul recognizes yours as its mate, as the love of my life."  
Rick leans down, and with the lightest flick of his soft lips over mine, he whispers, "Thank you."  
"Can I put the ring on your finger?" I ask shyly, grasping the gold band from his palm.  
"Of course." I take hold of his large left hand, smoothing my own fingers over his long ones. First placing a kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger, I slide the metal band down. Our eyes meet again, drawn to each other, faces adorned with with wide matching smiles.  
"I wish the both of you nothing but continued love and abundance. I pray that your devotion and care for each other, for your family, will protect and sustain you for all of your days. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ok, Rick, now, you may kiss the bride!" Gabriel exclaims.  
Releasing the clutch of our hands, he places one of his behind my neck, the other around my waist. Pulling me closer, he devours me with his kiss. Catching me by surprise, locking his lips around my own, his tongue thrusts into my mouth. Throwing my arms around his shoulders, pressing my needy body closer to his heat, lust is building in me from the passionate caress of his warm hands down over my shoulders and back. Across the curves of my waist and hips, settling with a tight cupping of my bottom. Unabashedly grasping a handful, the crowd around us whoops and hollers at the overt affection.  
"Mr. and Mrs. Grimes, ladies and gentlemen!" Maggie yells over the crowd, clapping in celebration.  
"Dad, Mom! This is so embarrassing!" I hear Carl murmur below us. "Can you guys come up for air now, please?"  
After our vows to each other, Rick and I are led to the middle of the clearing, where the crowd surrounds us. Joining us off to the side of the circle, Aaron begins to speak in a loud voice, easily heard over the excited chatter of the crowd. "This is a big occasion for us, all of us. Michonne and Rick's marriage is not just a symbol of their commitment to each other, a symbol of their love, but also a symbol of hope for a future for all of us. So, I want to dedicate a song to them as a gift. It's an old one, but I think it's appropriate for these two. And excuse me, I haven't sung in years, so I might be a bit rusty!" He smiles over to us, and from deep in his diaphragm, the most beautiful tenor lilts through the air. Words to a song that I haven't heard since I was a young girl, riding in the car with my mother. The romantic song rises from Aaron's lips to cover Rick and I as we begin a slow synchronized sway.  
"Love has, truly, been good to me,  
Not even one sad day  
Or minute have I had since you've come my way.  
I hope you know, I'd gladly go  
Anywhere you take me.  
It's so amazing to be loved,  
I'd follow you to the moon and the sky above."  
Once again, tears cloud my eyes, cover my face. Holding tightly to my husband, rhythmically rocking side to side in his arms, the joy in my heart is near bursting, almost more than I can stand. Wanting to share some of what I'm feeling, the magic of this moment, I wave my hands to invite others to join us, to find a partner and experience the perfection of the words and their meaning. Daryl offers his hand to Rosita, who enraptured by the enchantment of the moment doesn't even hesitate to accept. Morgan is with Judith, allowing her to dance with her feet on top of his own. Carl shyly and unexpectedly asks Cyndie from Oceanside to dance, peaking my interest about what might be developing there. As more folks join the fray, the field is scattered with hopeful survivors, bewitched by the heartfelt tenderness of the occasion.  
"I've got to, tell you, how you thrill me  
I'm happy as I can be  
You have come, and it's changed my whole world  
Bye bye sadness, hello mellow  
What a wonderful day.  
It's so amazing to be loved,  
I'd follow you to the moon and the sky above."  
"You are breathtaking in this dress, baby. I can't keep my hands off you." Rick proclaims, his voice husky with his admission, his greedy hands roving all over my body in appreciation.  
"You're not so bad yourself. You clean up very nicely, Mr. Grimes. Though I kinda miss the beard, you're easily the most handsome man I've ever seen. How did I get so lucky?"  
"I'm the lucky one, Mrs. Grimes. There isn't a woman who could ever be more beautiful to me than you are. And, I have another surprise for you tonight."  
"I don't know if my heart can take another one, Rick. It's crazy that you pulled this off, right under my nose no less. But I'm grateful, thank you. Everything is so wonderful."  
"Tonight, we're going to take a few days, and head to Oceanside."  
"Rick, we can't-"  
"We can. We are. Maggie is going to stay with the kids, and Daryl and Rosita are going to help her. You have pumped enough milk to last more than two days. I need you, and I get you, alone, to have my way with you for two whole days, no interruptions." He replies, a naughty glimmer in his eyes, as he bites down on his bottom lip.  
A shiver runs the length of my body from his wanton admission of need, from the sight of his succulent lip between his teeth. But the mother in me still launches a small protest. "But, Rick, the boys are so little still. I haven't been away from them more than a few hours."  
Leaning down to suck on my neck with his firm sweet lips, he lets out a low growl, "I need you, Michonne. And, I think they'll survive, and so will you. Matter of fact, we need to leave now." Standing up straight, he grabs my hand and turns to leave, heading over towards Daryl and Rosita.

Perusing the expanse of the small cabin, moonlight filtering through the windows, the magic of this day continues. After some teary goodbyes, filled with kisses and long hugs to the kids, and plenty of instructions for Maggie, Rosita, and Daryl, Rick managed to pull me away to the car for our departure. Only an hour drive away, the quiet community gifted us with the use of one of the nicest cabins, right on the beach.  
Closing the door and dropping our bags on the floor, Rick comes up behind me, promptly easing the zipper of my dress down my back. "I can't wait another minute to get you out of this dress, Chonne." Shifting the straps down over my shoulders and arms, he pushes the dress the rest of the way to the floor, pooling at my feet. Realizing that I am not wearing a bra or underwear, Rick squeezes my ass in his strong hands, gathering a handful of each cheek. "You naughty girl. You haven't had on any panties all night? Hm? And you didn't tell me?" He asks, tilting his head to the side, making eye contact with me.  
"Nope. I couldn't wear them with the dress. And I didn't tell you because I know you wouldn't behave if I did." I smirk at him, peeking at his wolfish grin from the side of my eyes.  
"You're damn right I wouldn't. Shit." Placing his lips on my shoulders, he begins a slow descent across my back, stopping at my ass. Squeezing and separating the cheeks, he gives each a teasing bite, and smack. "Fuck!"  
Turned on by his lascivious attentions, I turn around. Standing to greet me, Rick reaches for me, but I move away just in time, escaping his grasp. "Deputy, I need you stand over by the bed."  
Catching on to the game, a light of recognition illuminating his electric blue eyes, he casually strolls over to the bed. Removing his suit jacket, and throwing it onto a nearby chair, he begins to unbutton his shirt. "Let me do that." I request, approaching him and knocking his hands away.  
"Yes, Counselor." He acquiesces, dropping his hands to his waist, resting them on his belt.  
Opening his now unbuttoned shirt, I gently run my hands over the light dusting of hair that covers his firm chest, and tight abdomen, leading down into his pants. Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders on to the floor, I move my hands to his belt, undoing the buckle, and unzipping his pants. Never breaking eye contact with him, I place my hands inside of his pants and underwear, finding his warm cock hard as a rock, straining against the material.  
"Fuck. Grab me harder, Chonne. Shit! Did you miss me, hm?" He asks, lust dropping the tenor of his voice into a deep gravelly bass.  
"Yes. I can't wait to taste you again. For your cock to fill me up. For you to fuck me." I murmur against his chest, doing as he asked and applying a tighter grasp to his dick, while placing wet kisses between his pecs, then over his nipples. Pushing his pants and underwear over his lean hips, and down his long bowed legs, I momentarily stop to fully lean over and place a reverent kiss at the head of his erect cock.  
"Jesus, Michonne. Gotdamn!" Reaching for me, releasing a labored breath, I knock his hand away again, and shake my head.  
"You can't touch, Deputy. Not yet." I tease, slowly descending to my knees before him. Wetting my lips, I pepper his cock and thighs with sloppy kisses, enjoying the musky masculine scent of him. Nuzzling my face in his pubic hair, I inhale him, becoming lost in the moment. "Rick, baby…"  
"Don't tease me, Chonne." Reaching for his cock with one hand, and my face with the other, he runs it over my hungry wet lips. Enjoying the taunting taste of him, I open my mouth wide, and fully devour the length and girth of him. "My god! Oooooohh, shiiiiit!"  
Moaning at the sound of him, delighting in his pleasure, my own excitement is steadily building. Feeling myself grow wetter with each pull of my mouth's suction of his cock, I can barely withstand the tension, and neither can he. Still holding gingerly to the side of my face, he slowly pulls his cock from my mouth, a wet strand of saliva still connecting my lips to the head. "I'm not going to last long if you keep that up, it's been too long."  
Wiping his fingers across my swollen lips, I suck his thumb into my mouth, mimicking the same laving motion I administered to his thick cock. "Shit! Come here, Chonne." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Rick pulls me up, and turns me around, facing away from him. "Bend over, I want to taste you." He commands, pushing gently to the middle of my back, encouraging me to lean over and touch my toes. Pushing his face into the crease where my ass and my pussy meet, he begins to savagely devour me. Wasting no time, his hands tightly gripping my hips, he uses his nose and lips to send me teetering, dancing on the edge of an orgasm. Long swipes of his tongue, dripping with my essence, taste me from my clit and up to my tightest hole, where he lingers, pushing his tongue against the resistance. Knees shaking from the wanton deliciousness of it all, head bobbing listlessly, I'm becoming light headed, which is only increasing the intense orgasm that is attempting to light my body on fire.  
"Rick, Rick…" I chant on short gasping breaths, unable to form any other words.  
"Mmmmmm. You taste amazing, Chonne, but I need to fuck you, baby. Are you ready for me?"  
"Yes! Please!" I scream, unable to restrain the sense of relief from the reprieve of him fucking me with his mouth. My body is wound so tight I don't think I would have been able to withstand the strength of my impending orgasm just yet.  
Removing his face from the apex of my sex, he leans back. "Sit." He commands, directing me to remain turned away from him, but to straddle his lap, my legs thrown over the outside of his muscular thighs. Eased back against him, his cock long and erect, nestled in the folds of my womanhood, I'm wide open, ready for him to continue his pleasurable exploration. With my right arm I reach back to grab his head, bringing him to me, briefly missing his feathery curls. Grinding my ass on him, passionately enticing him, I open my mouth to welcome the sweet invasion of his thrusting tongue.  
His right hand is vigorously squeezing and caressing my large breasts, and his left has moved to my clitoris. Stroking in rapid swipes, his fingers become immersed in my damp folds, eliciting a keening groan from deep within me. No longer able to endure not being filled by him, I move his hand lower, pushing his fingers to enter me. At the sensation of his eager and domineering fingers grazing the depths of my tight pussy, I can no longer focus on his kiss, and instead lose myself in the nearly domineering pleasure. Grinding down on his hand, I need more.  
Withdrawing his fingers from inside of me, Rick lightly slaps the insides of my thighs. "Wider." He demands, then lifts me by the waist from his lap, proceeding to impale me on his enlarged cock.  
"Dear god!" I murmur, satisfied with the immediate snug fullness of him, his tip nudging the very bottom of my canal.  
My appetite for him now easily matching his for me, I twirl my hips in a slow hypnotizing circle, allowing his thick girth to open me up further, to relax the tightness of my gloved fit over him. Head thrown back, resting on his shoulder, his hands on my waist begin to control the up and down of my body, guiding the friction of the impatient push and pull. Biting, licking, sucking at my lips, jaw, and neck, Rick is thrusting hard from beneath me, meeting my grinding bounce, with the bucking lunge of his hips.  
"Your pussy feels so good, Chonne. So tight." He utters, vanishing into the blissful thrill or our sensually writhing bodies. Both of us damp with the dewy flush of sweat his pounding and my grinding provokes, a wet sounding smack echoes throughout the room at the joining of our flesh.  
"I missed you so much, baby. I'm about to cum. Can I cum in your pussy, Chonne? Hm? Can I bathe that pussy in my cum? Say yes." He breathes out on a quick succession of pants.  
His sexy, provocative words send my own orgasm quickly charging through my limbs, freezing my body in ecstasy. All I can do is nod yes, craving the sticky sensation of his cum inside my depths.  
Wrapping both arms around me, holding me tightly to him, our bodies embroiled in a thrashing, thrusting, embrace, he stiffens beneath me with one final push. Groaning at the wanton rush of his climax, his hold is nearly crushing me as I grind and swivel, eager to take every drop from him.  
"Fuuuuucccckkkkk…" is all I hear from him, as his vise like grip of my body lessens, and his head falls forward propped against my back, the sweat from his brow mingling with my own covering my back.  
Now relaxed, his grip massaging my hips, we're both coming to, regaining some semblance of coherence.  
"That was amazing, Chonne. I missed being with you, so much." He wearily admits, struggling to form his words through the lazy haze his climax has blanketed him in.  
"I know. I missed you too, Rick. But, you need to try pulling out more often now if we don't want more kids just yet. At least for awhile, ok?"  
"I'll try. But, that's a hard promise to keep, you just feel so good. Would another baby be so bad?"  
Giving it some thought, I take my time in answering him. "It wouldn't be so bad, but maybe we should pace ourselves with the babies. Carl, Judith, the twins, it's a lot to juggle already. Ok?"  
"Hm."  
"Rick…"  
"We'll see." Laying back, he closes his eyes with the non-committal response. Turning to face him, I lay my body on top of his, crushing my breasts to his chest.  
"Rick, will you try at least until we figure the baby situation out? I'm not getting any younger, and neither are you. Let's just think about this." I plead, my ear pressed to his chest, lulled by the predictable thump of his heart beating.  
"You make me feel younger, and I like making babies with you. I want as many as you will give me. I like knowing that parts of us will live in on into the future. Seeing our features meshed together on the faces of new little people. Your personality, smarts, living on through our kids and grandkids." Caressing his hand up and down my back, the pads of his fingers leaving behind a tingle in my spine. "This beautiful skin, those lips, my god those lips, Chonne. Let's have more eventually, ok?" He chuckles. "But, in the meantime, I will try." Rubbing his fingers through my hair with his other hand, I'm secretly blushing and delighting in his admission, his adoringly sweet words.  
"Maybe, Mr. Grimes. I'll think about more babies." I relent, sensing my tired body drifting off to sleep.  
"Say yes, Mrs. Grimes."

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Epilogue / The Future (Rick's persp)  
"Does your mother let you eat cookies for breakfast, Elizabeth?" I ask, removing my focus from the book on my lap and over to my 3-year-old granddaughter, Judith's daughter.  
"Ummm…maybe?" My grandbaby responds, looking up at me with her dark almond eyes, deceptively innocent in the midst of her mischievous plotting. Seated with her legs crossed next to me on the couch, she's got her little hand out asking for more cookies, even though I already snuck her two. As precocious as her mother ever was, she knows I'm not going to say no to her. I can't. Not to any of my grandkids.  
"I'll give you this last one. But then no more, ok? You're gonna get me in trouble with your grandma and your mama." Glancing over my shoulder to check and be sure neither of them are around, I remove another cookie from my napkin.  
"Thank you, Poppy!" She cries, snatching the cookie from my hand, and taking off from the couch as fast as her little feet will allow, heading somewhere in the house to enjoy the spoils of her juvenile ruse. These kids know how to work me I realize, shaking my head and pushing my glasses further up the bridge of my nose to concentrate on my book again.  
Disrupting my focus, I immediately hear the swinging and resultant bang of the back screen door, accompanied by the voice of our daughter in law Elena, followed by multiple footsteps.  
"Mom, he is driving me crazy though. I'm done even having the conversation."  
"Don't let Junior be in charge, Elena. He's a bossy know it all sometimes. You just need to put him in his place. Mom, tell her. He's really a softie like Dad. If you talk to him right he'll do whatever you want. What do you call it, Mom? He's whipped!" I hear Judith chime in, commiserating with Elena's frustration with Junior, and poking a little fun at his, and apparently my expense. But if Judith has her say, Elena will have Junior in line in no time. I think the fact that everyone knows Hershel does whatever his wife, Judith, tells him to do is pretty evident that he lets her have her way. But that's also proof that he has figured out the same thing I have, and that Junior will soon come around to as well. Ultimately, you win when you let your wife have her way. Happy wife, happy life. And when you have a good wife, when you've chosen well, it definitely has its benefits.  
"Your father is not whipped, Judith. Remember we had six kids of our own, and I did not plan on that. But yes, Junior is like Rick, Elena, and that means he might be stubborn, wanting more kids, but it's out of love, not that he's trying to dominate you or anything archaic like that. But, I agree with your point as well, two is a good number, it's enough. I've been there, and I will talk to him if you want, but otherwise you have to manage your own husband, honey. I'm his mother, and I don't like to get into you guys' personal stuff."  
"I know, and it's not that I don't want to have a big family with him, but two is enough. Remember I was an only child, but I grew up with you guys. Six kids were a lot." Elena sighs. "I'm going to check on the kids, see if Junior's done getting everyone bathed. Get myself ready for the wedding. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Judy." I hear Elena say before also catching the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floors, across the creaking boards of the long hallway.  
Knowing that Michonne and Judith might come looking for me here in the living room next, I re-wrap my stash of cookies in the napkin and swiftly shove them them under the throw pillow next to me on the couch, attempting to hide my own theft.  
"Rick, you might need to talk to Junior. He's got poor Elena playing baby making machine at every turn, wanting her to have another baby. Their last baby Michael is only 6 months old! I think two kids is plenty, don't you? They are so young; this could go on for another ten or so years. Is he trying to catch up to Carl? We've already got so many grandkids as it is. Right?" Michonne says, entering the living room, and joining me on the couch. Judith follows behind her, taking a seat on the other side of me, sitting on the pillow that hides my cookies, that are certainly crushed to crumbs now.  
"Mmhm." I nod my head, agreeing with her. "He should listen to his wife. I always do."  
"Sometimes you do. We had six kids too, remember, that's a lot to manage. You would think he would remember that." She states, snuggling close to me underneath my arm, pressing her warm body to my side.  
"It was a lot, Chonne, but it was also a lot of fun, right? Making 'em, raising 'em. Let them figure it out, ok? Anyway, the more Grimes the better." Looking down at her, I nudge her face up towards mine to place a firm kiss to her pillowy lips, that taste of strawberries and lemonade.  
"Dad, first, ew! Making them, really? Did you have to say that while I'm in the room? I'm gonna be sick." Feigning throwing up, Michonne and I laugh at her dramatics. "Then, no, Dad, there are more than enough folks in this family already. Hershel and I have two, Carl and Cyndie have six, Junior and Elena have two, Jamie and Aminah have three, only God knows how many Glenn has now. How many does he have, Mom?" Judith scrunches her face in question, counting up all the grandkids on her fingers. In that moment, looking over at her perched on the couched, she resembles Lori.  
Judith has never seen her, has no picture of what she looks like, only knows that Lori is her biological mother. But somehow in that moment, with her long chestnut hair down over her shoulders, and pulled away from her face, she has summoned her. Lori's stare and wide eyed look of incredulity are making a comeback through Judith. It freezes me momentarily, then throws my memory back into time. A time that wasn't all bad, but frankly wasn't all that good either.  
Having never witnessed Lori's mannerisms, or having met her, Michonne is blissfully unaware of her emergence on her daughter's face. Or Shane's hot-blooded disposition in her temperamental ways. Whoever said that nurture overrides nature has never met my Judith.  
"At last count, Glenn has eight kids. And I'm expecting that they will all be here today for the wedding, probably along with all of their mothers as well. He's living some roaming pirate dream life he read about in a book or something. I don't know what to say about him anymore." Michonne surmises, a little exasperation at the free-wheeling life our youngest son leads.  
"He's uh, Long John Silver now, right? Or maybe it's Johnny Appleseed!" I chuckle, thinking about my youngest son, his proclivity for the ladies, and having babies. With the restart of society, and the efforts to revitalize the remnants of technology and order that were abandoned during the turn, Glenn and a crew of folks decided to hit the seas and see what they could find. He's been a sailor since he was 15, and even though we're not entirely happy with his rolling stone ways, we are proud that he is doing something that makes him happy. Hell, most of all, we're just glad that Glenn, like the rest of this generation, have more life opportunities than we imagined they'd have after the turn.  
"Well, there you go, that's at least eight more. Way too many Grimes folks. The farm is gonna be a Grimes compound today with everyone here for the wedding." Huffs Judith, leaning back on the couch as though she has exhausted her point.  
"I don't see the problem." Looking between my wife and daughter in confusion. I can't help but actually be pretty excited at the thought of all of my family being here today. After all of the death and fighting, my family has grown and flourished to such a large number. Grabbing Michonne's hand, clutching it to my heart, I also have to admit that one of the main reasons for that is her. By the blade of her sword, and the barrel of my colt, we fought and killed to make this a reality, and well, I regret nothing.  
"It's nice for everyone to be here, Judy. When your father and I moved to this farm after Misha was born, we hoped it would be kind of like a compound for our family. A safe place for everyone to be together. You've all moved on and have your own lives. You're all spread out. But you know you enjoy being here with your brothers and sister, all of your nieces and nephews, me and your dad. All the noise and fun we have together. Come on, admit it." Michonne asserts, reaching over me to poke at Judith's well known tickle spot at her ribs.  
"No! Don't tickle me, Mom! Ok, it's exhausting, but kind of fun." Judith relents on a stream of loud raucous laughter, hurriedly rising from the couch, escaping Michonne's tickles. "I'm going to shower and get my husband and kids ready for the wedding. Mom, let me know when Misha gets back from her ride. I told her I would help with her hair and makeup." Leaning down she places a kiss on top of my head. "I like the glasses and the haircut, old man." She teases, rushing out of the way of me swatting playfully at her leg.  
A few weeks ago I decided to stop fighting my thinning, receding hair that had already turned fully white. Still cutting my hair every other week, like she has been for the last twenty or so years, Michonne gave me a closely cropped buzz cut, and I like it. On the other hand, my beard, which she also trims, but just a little with the scissors, remains full and as white as it ever was.  
"I told you the haircut is good. And of course you look very smart and sexy in your glasses, Deputy." Michonne purrs, leaning in even closer to me. Pushing her leg out and away from her, I'm laying her back onto the couch, getting in between her thighs, and closer to my favorite spot.  
"Is that right?" I wonder aloud, my eyes wandering over her face, from her heaving bosom to her coffee brown eyes.  
"Absolutely." Biting down on her plump bottom lip, drawing my attention there, I can feel arousal growing in my groin. I lean up, rising to meet her, and take those lips that belong to me, in a kiss. Plying them apart to thrust my tongue into her mouth, I savor the sweet taste of strawberries lacing her tongue. Grabbing two handfuls of her plump bottom, I'm massaging and squeezing, excited by the supple feel of her curves against me, gyrating my groin against her heat. Growing feverish from the passion of our kiss, Michonne is crushing and grinding her buxom breasts against my chest, moaning into my mouth.  
"Do we have time for this? To head to our room?" I pant in between kisses, my steely erection hungry to satisfy my need of her. Even though we have been together for just over 20 years, my desire for her hasn't waned one bit. And god me help me, she's still the most beautiful, breathtaking woman I have ever seen. After the birth of the twins, her petite frame filled out, adding even more womanly curves to her already delectable shape. As my grandfather used to say, she is still built like a Coke bottle. And I'm still as eager as ever to sip from that bottle as much as she'll let me. Grasping a handful of her hair, her dreads are now a striking silver, with just a few strands of her previous dark shade still woven throughout. Against her deep velvety skin, the contrast is quite alluring.  
While we don't have the need to fight to survive anymore, retiring those parts of ourselves as society is slowly moving back to a slightly less civilized version of itself, we both keep fit working around our secluded farm. After the surprise pregnancy that resulted in Glenn being born almost one year after the twins, and the even bigger surprise of little Misha being born two years later when Michonne thought she was starting menopause, we had to find something bigger for the rapidly growing Grimes family. Daryl and I were out on border patrol, as each community was responsible for furthering them progressively over time, and we found this farm. A little bigger than Hershel's farm, from what we could tell it was a horse farm, that also has an apple orchard in the fields behind the main house, which is a sprawling ranch style home. Moving here from the Safe Zone was a big change, leaving our friends, and the community behind, but we made an effort to stay as involved as possible. And once we found horses, and began keeping a stable of them, it became even easier to commute back and forth, especially with the realization that we are only around three miles from the Safe Zone. It was perfect for us. The kids got more room to be kids, to grow, Michonne found a real cat, actually a family of cats in the stables, and I got a farm of my own. And over time, many other family members have come and gone, staying at our farm for as little as a few days, to as much as a few years. Daryl lived here with us after he and Rosita finally called it quits about five years ago, and stayed until he had a heart attack and passed away a year ago.  
Pulling back from me some, she scours my face with her dark scrutinizing gaze, I assume thinking over my question, but instead posing one of her own. "Look at these cookie crumbs in your beard, Rick. You been sneaking cookies, old man?" Reaching her hand to brush her delicate fingers through my beard, and across my lips, she has discovered my secret.  
"Hm? Yeah I had a few." I partially confess, rubbing my hands along her waist and hips to hopefully coerce her into getting back to us heading to our bedroom.  
"Just a few? I can taste the cookies on your lips. You know those are Misha's favorite cookies, Rick. I had to get up early to make them, and the cake."  
"I remember you getting up too early. Leaving me alone in the bed, knowing I needed my morning loving." I grouse, my hands underneath her ass, pulling closer to let her feel the pressure of my swollen cock against her, while I place another kiss to my wife's lips, this one hungrier than the last.  
Stopping our kiss she continues. "Rick, on the morning of your youngest daughter's wedding, with a house full of people, a cake and cookies to make, I thought you might be able to make it one morning without it." She reasoned, moving her lips over to whisper into my ear, licking her wet tongue along the outer shell.  
"No, you're wrong. I still need it." Wrapping my arms around her back, I stand from the couch, carrying my giggling wife. Her long legs wrapped around my waist, I'm ready to finish this conversation in bed.  
Instead, I once again catch the sound of the back screen door swinging open, then banging shut. All followed by the hasty footsteps of my youngest daughter, leading directly towards us.  
"Mom! Dad! What are you guys doing?"  
"Uh, I was helping your mother…uh…" I stutter to answer, still tightly holding on to Michonne.  
"Ew, I don't want to know. I just came to tell you that the wedding is off. I'm not marrying Zeke Jr., I can't. Dad, you don't really like him anyway, so there you go." Misha, my youngest, and secret favorite, rants.  
Dropping her legs from around my waist, and stepping back from me, Michonne calmly responds to our daughter's frantic proclamation. "So, what did Zeke Jr. do that is worthy of you cancelling a wedding that is supposed to happen in 4 hours, Misha?"  
Taking a seat on the couch, arms crossed, full lips poked out in a pout, she is physically Michonne in every way. Of the four children we created together, Misha is the darkest of them all, and the only one that carries so many of her mother's features and mannerisms that they could pass for sisters instead of mother and daughter. It is for this reason, and maybe also because she is the youngest, that I have indulged and spoiled her the most. From the moment she entered this world, signaling the end of Michonne's and my baby making days, this little princess has owned my heart.  
Overall though, with six children, we have been gifted with a broad span of personalities. Carl was a child, then a teen, during the hard times, the wars, with Negan and the Whisperers, becoming a hardened soldier like Michonne and I, with tiny memories of the old world. Eventually he became a much needed co-leader, shrewd but fair, for Oceanside, working alongside his wife Cyndie. We always thought Enid was his destiny, but after dancing with Cyndie at our wedding, he became truly smitten, and before we knew it, Cyndie was pregnant by Carl. Shortly after, he decided to move to Oceanside to be with her, and take care of his family, first as mainly a fisherman, and then as their co-leader when Cyndie's grandmother Natania passed away.  
Judith is a true child of the apocalypse, learning to fight at a young age as easily and seamlessly as learning her ABCs, she's known no other life. As such, she was used to having the love and care of multiple family members throughout some pretty tough times. But always sticking close to her mother, she is a temperamental little warrior, still keeping Michonne's katana with her always. Growing up so closely with Hershel everyone assumed from a very young age that they would get married, and they did not disappoint. Moving to The Hilltop, together they take care of Maggie and their two children, working as farmers.  
Junior and Jamie, our love children as Michonne calls them, are intellectuals, both working with exploration teams that broaden borders, and identify ways to revive the world. Personality wise, they each possess my tenacity and Michonne's wisdom, but as most people often mention, are an identical pair with a brown version of my face. Given their gifted intelligence, the speed at which they picked things up and seemed to desire to get out into the world, moved them away from us pretty quickly. Living at Alexandria, with their wives and families, Junior married to Daryl and Rosita's daughter Elena, and Jamie married to Aminah, the daughter of Nabila and Jerry from The Kingdom. Together they have made Alexandria the unofficial capital of the communities, as well as an education hub for learning and innovation.  
Glenn, our adventurer is just that. He followed Daryl around a lot when he was younger, scouring our tiny piece of the world, maybe just trying to find his way in the bustle of a quickly growing family. He became interested in exploring, hunting, seeing the world around us, leading to his time on the ocean. I suppose the freedom he found on the water, somehow correlates to the freedoms he takes spending his time with various women, but honestly only Glenn knows.  
Then there is my Misha. Named after my wife, the love of my life, she has stuck to me from day one. As soon as she could walk she would be with me on the farm, working with the horses, riding as often as she could, picking apples from the orchard, making applesauce. She always loved my stories about the old world, about me being a sheriff's deputy, about my favorite television shows and the westerns I used to watch with my grandfather on weekends. It was like she was learning about and seeing the old world through my eyes. Though our sons became affectionately known as the "band of boys", and Judith as Michonne's shadow, Misha has always been and will always be, my princess.  
"He had the nerve to tell me just now that he doesn't want to live here on the farm when we're married, that he wants me to move to The Kingdom with him. How can he expect me to leave my family? You guys are getting old; I can't just leave you here alone!"  
"I'm old? Chonne, am I old?" I ask playfully, glancing between my wife and my daughter, then rolling my eyes in fake confusion.  
"I'm not old, and neither are you. We are…seasoned, experienced. I still feel like I did twenty years ago." Michonne teases, nodding her head at her own proclamation, and rubbing her hands across the expanse of my back.  
"And you still look the same, baby, beautiful as ever." I respond, admiring the sexy confidence my wife always has. "Maybe even better than ever." Kissing her neck, she gives a little delighted squeal at my affections, while my daughter groans in the background.  
"Guys! Be serious please!"  
"Misha, Zeke Jr. has a responsibility at The Kingdom. You knew that when you began dating him, and when you accepted his marriage proposal. I fully expected that you would leave one day, just like your sister did, just like all of your brothers have." Michonne reasons, making her best attempt at getting Misha to see reason.  
"You can stay here for as long as you want though." I shrug, throwing out a more desirable alternative, at least to me, than what my wife is suggesting.  
"Rick, you're not helping." Michonne rolls her eyes at me, and continues. "Everything we have done since the turn has been to ensure that you kids have a future. And well, we did that. So now you have to go out there and live your life. Don't let what we had to go through, our sacrifices, and your brother Carl's, and even Judy's to some extent, be in vain. Ok?"  
"Gee, no guilt there at all, Mom. I get it, but aren't you guys going to miss me? Who is going to clean the stables with Daddy every morning? Work in the orchards?" Skeptical, Misha's eyes bounce from her mother's to mine, searching for answers, something to assuage her uncertainty.  
"Don't worry about us, we'll figure it out, Misha. We always do." Michonne answers, and pulls our daughter, our baby, into a hug. Joining in the hug with my girls, I can sense the relief in the relaxation of her tense body, signaling her acceptance of her mother's words. "Zeke Jr. is a good boy. He loves you and respects you. Things will turn out just fine."  
"You're right, Mom. Like Dad says, you're always right. I'm going to see if Judy is ready to help me with my hair." Taking off towards the hall, she looks back at us, like a younger duplication of her mother. "I love you guys. Thanks!"  
Watching her stroll down the hall, away from me, I pause to consider her words, the implication that she will in fact be leaving us. "You know, Michonne, I never really considered that she is moving to The Kingdom either. Ezekiel is taking my princess from me." I mumble, discontent coloring my revelation.  
"Rick, he's not. He can't do anything right when it comes to you. You have just never forgiven him for moving on after Carol died, have you? You and Daryl could never move past that. But guess what? You got over your first wife dying. You remarried, had a bunch more kids, so what does that say about you?"  
Instantly sniffing out the setup in Michonne's question, I'm not even falling for it. "That's because I met the woman who was my destiny, and there was no comparison." Smirking at her, I can see that she approves of my answer by the shy smile overtaking her sexy lips. "And, I forgave him. It just seemed so sudden that he moved on and started a family. Shit, Carol was barely gone by the time he remarried." Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lift her feet off the ground, closer to mine, once again latching on to and kneading her bottom in my hands. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to get my daily dose of Chonne. Now, come on, Counselor." I nod my head towards the hall that leads to our bedroom, and raise my eyebrows in invitation.  
"Well if you put it that way. Let's go, Deputy. I'll give you your fix now…" Michonne taunts, landing back on her feet and grabbing my hand. Leading me down the hallway, she puts an extra sway in the back and forth swing of her round hips.  
"Damn, Chonne. And a little more later, too?" I ask, moving her hair aside to suck on the back of her neck. Grinding my erection into her ass, we are interrupted once again by the sound of a slamming screen door…

"We're gonna head back to Oceanside tonight." Carl says, loading his van with bags, and leftover food from the wedding.  
"I thought you guys were going to stay the night." Michonne says.  
Turning from the back doors of the van, he faces us. In his forties now, our son is every bit the man we hoped he would be. Tall and lean, same as me, his face is also covered in a salt and pepper beard, hair once again longer than I'm sure his mother cares for.  
Making obvious her dislike of his long locks, Michonne reaches out to him and swipes his brown and gray hair away from his face. "There. Now I can see your face." She smiles lovingly at him. "We have enough room for you guys to stay the night. That way you can leave in the morning, when you're refreshed."  
"It's ok, Mom. Glenn and his kids are leaving with us tonight, too. We're actually all heading out for a fishing trip in the morning on his boat, so we should leave now so we can be up early and get out on the water. But, we'll be back through here in two weeks. I told Dad I would help him with that wild horse he found when he was out on that trip to Assateague."  
"Fine. Have fun with your brother and the kids fishing." She relents. Kissing him on the cheek, she then walks away, towards Glenn who is coming down the pathway from the house, his tribe of kids following closely behind.  
"So, your little brother, Junior is trying to talk Elena into another baby. Think maybe he's trying to keep up with his big brother?" I ask, hands on my hips, squinting my eyes in question, a slight tilt to my head.  
Mirroring my own stance Carl chuckles at the assumption. "He probably is. But, Elena isn't Cyndie. She already knows how much trouble six kids can be; she's not going to stand for it." He says, making a swiping gesture across his neck to get his point across.  
"Yeah, I know. You talk to him. He listens to you. If I talk to him, he'll think I'm meddling."  
"I understand." He responds, scratching at the thickness of his beard.  
"Listen, to be clear though. There's nothing wrong with Junior wanting to have more children. That's not what I'm saying. You guys love your wives. That connection is a part of how you express your love, to keep expanding your families. But your mother and I walked that road, and yeah it was hard, being responsible for all of those lives. Making time for just the two of you to have alone time. Tell him to make it a little easier on himself, if Elena doesn't want any more kids, he needs to call it quits. You know how it goes, Carl. You and Cyndie have five girls, and one boy. He'll respect your advice."  
"Yep. I'm on it, Dad." He nods and grins, once again happily accepting his role as big brother.  
Reaching out to grab my oldest son into a hug, the pride that I feel in this moment is immense, threatening to send me into tears. He and I have traveled a long road together, maturing and transforming in tandem. At times I doubted our ability to survive, to even make it to the next day. But here we are.  
"Hey, old man, save some hugs for me and these kids, too!" Glenn yells playfully, approaching my side and engulfing Carl and I in a whopping bear hug. At well over six feet tall, sporting a wide frame and a barrel chest, Glenn's larger than life presence and friendly personality, definitely makes him the life of the party. I can see why women like him so much. Why a fleet of folks leave land at his whims, to follow him and scour the ocean looking for adventure. With his mass of curls pulled to the top of his head in a bun, his sun kissed face, similar to his mother's, but the color of polished brass, he looks nothing like the man he is named after, but he possesses every bit of the same level of kindness and affability. Michonne says that he is a throwback, that he's very much like her father. Obviously having never met him, in her stories about his exploits from his home country of Zimbabwe, to his time as an engineer that partied and womanized his way through the States until he met and fell in love with her mother, also an engineer, he sounds a lot like our Glenn.  
Steadying myself, I'm nearly tumbling to the ground from the force of Glenn's hug, and the barrage of grandkids grabbing my legs, piling on to the affectionate hug. "Ok! How about one at a time, you guys give Poppy hugs?" I offer, finally landing to the ground on my ass, ending up at the bottom of a mountain, made up entirely of at least eight of my grandkids.  
"Glenn, you are so dramatic." Judith dryly comments, walking by holding her son's hand, following close behind Hershel who carries their daughter Elizabeth in his arms, Maggie at his side. Picking her son up, she helps him into his car seat. "Dad is old, be careful with him please." She asserts, narrowing her stare over at Carl and Glenn to make her point.  
"What?" I ask, returning her stare in disbelief that another one of my children has referred to me as old.  
Glancing back towards Michonne, who carries the youngest of Carl's children, six month old Mason, Maggie wryly comments, "Rick Grimes, taken down by children. Who knew that all this time, that was your weakness? Huh." Looking down at me, she snickers at her own wise ass comments. "See you guys, soon!" She waves her hand, fluttering her fingers back towards us as she enters Hershel and Judith's truck.  
"Very funny, Maggie. You guys be careful heading back to The Hilltop. Glenn, help me up." I grumble, reaching my hand up towards my burly son.  
"Got ya, Pop!" Jovially he answers, and easily pulls me up from the ground, patting me on the back. Tilting his head down towards mine he whispers, "Hey, I'll try to come back when Carl does. Maybe bring a lady friend of mine with me. I want you and Mom to meet her. She's real nice. Very pretty. Big-"  
"Big what, Glenn?" Michonne asks, Cyndie flanking her at her side.  
"Uh. Big, uh…a big smile, Mom. Beautiful smile." Leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, he hugs her, and his sister in law, then beats a hasty retreat towards his truck, collecting his kids on the way. "Bye everyone!" He yells from the driver's side of his car, waving his hand from the window.  
"Uh huh. Big smile my ass." Smirks Michonne.  
"Goodbye, Mom, Dad." Cyndie leans in and hugs Michonne and I. Taking little Mason from his grandmother, she walks over to the van to head home with Carl.  
Hearing commotion coming from the stables, I look over to see Junior, Jamie, Ezekiel, and Zeke Jr., closing up and latching the doors.  
"What's going on over there?" Craning my neck to get a better look, I question out loud more to myself than to my wife.  
Approaching Michonne and I, Junior, as he is known to do, takes charge and speaks up first. "Mom, Dad. We are about to head out, but we were helping Ezekiel and Zeke Jr. with a little surprise for Misha. Gonna need the horse trailer, but I'll bring it back. Is she still in the house?"  
"Yes. Your wives are helping her pack up the last of her things. What's the surprise?" Michonne queries.  
"I know that my beloved Misha feels bereft at the thought of leaving her homestead, and her parents behind. Given this, a preponderance of her predilections leads me to the conclusion that bringing her most favored horse, Buttons, with us to The Kingdom, may prove to ease her anxiety. I love her dearly, and only desire her happiness." Zeke Jr. answers.  
In the same old English manner his father has become known for, my new son in law's thoughtful consideration of my daughter actually causes my lips to curl upward into an unexpected smile. "Thank you, Zeke. You're a good man. She'll love that. Her uncle Aaron gave her that horse last year." My wife is next to me smiling as well, a few tears escaping her eyes, hitting the apples of her cheeks.  
"Mom, why are you crying?" Jamie asks, his blue eyes that he shares with his twin and I, focusing on his mother's face. "Are you ok?"  
Junior and Jamie, always the smartest in the room, are identical in nearly every way, with the exception of the fact that Junior is generally more likely to shoot first and ask questions later. Jamie is still the more level headed of the two, but has been known to pull his gun, a colt python of his own, that he found on one of their border broadening trips. Both men are lean, about my height, with Junior wearing his curls a little longer, familiarly brushed back from his face, and Jamie keeping them cropped short and close, same as I am now. Their conception and birth will always hold a soft spot in my heart. Grimes men through and through, mischievous almost to a fault, I will never forget the wild times Michonne and I had keeping up with them. Curious beyond belief, we had an extremely hard time preventing them from wandering off, eating bugs, falling down steps, getting their little hands on Michonne's katana or my gun. Adding Glenn to the mix just one year later, and Carl's antics running after Cyndie, and our band of boys definitely added a touch to our lives that shocked the rest of my once dark brown hair, stark white.  
Answering Jamie's question after her discrete attempt at wiping away her tears, Michonne reaches out to the twins, grabbing them both in a big hug, holding them tightly. "You boys helped with this surprise for your little sister? How wonderful and kind you two are." Beaming with pride at each of their faces, she plants big wet kisses on their cheeks, nuzzling each of them.  
"Mom, have you been drinking?" Junior asks, chuckling at his mother's demonstrative display of affection.  
"I have!" She exclaims happily. "Doesn't change the fact that you are both such good boys- ahem…men. You too, Zeke. Misha is going to be very happy with her surprise. Good job!"  
"Thank you, Mrs. Grimes."  
"Mom. Call me Mom." Patting at Zeke's cheeks, causing a scarlet flush to color his lightly tanned skin, Michonne also plants a big kiss on his cheeks as well.  
"Ah, alas, here is my bride!" Zeke Jr. exclaims, seeing Misha exit the house over my wife's shoulder.  
Strolling over to where we are all gathered, looking every bit the fairytale princess she is, Misha is wearing her mother's dress from the day she became my bride. Sharing a slightly coarser version of my mess of curls, they are gathered atop her head in a regal pouf, adorned with a jeweled comb in the front that draws to mind a crown. I can hear a long breath escape my new son in law's wide grinning lips, the haze of love blanketing him from head to toe. Anxious to be near her, he can't even wait the few minor seconds for her to fully reach us, instead his legs animate themselves, carrying him directly to her. Basking in the glow of each other's presence, initially they simply stare at each other, in a place where words are not necessary, only the shared message of love and adoration in their eyes.  
"Look at them, Rick. This is good. They really love each other." Michonne wistfully mentions on a soft whisper, leaning her head on my shoulder.  
"This is good. They both chose well." I agree, kissing the top of her head, squeezing her body close to mine.  
"The wedding was both joyous and beautiful. I am delighted that our families are now officially joined under the bounteous bonds of matrimony!" Ezekiel loudly exclaims, shaking my hand as Michonne and I stand with him near his car as he prepares to depart and head back to The Kingdom.  
"Thank you. It did turn out to be a wonderful day." Michonne agrees, her hand clasped in mine. "And the wine you brought was delicious. In fact, I may have had a little too much!"  
"One would have never guessed m'lady. You were as light on your feet on the dance floor as a peacock feather. And just as beautiful!" He exclaims, clutching her hand and placing a lingering kiss across her dainty fingers.  
"Oh! Thank you, Ezekiel."  
"It is forever my pleasure, Michonne!"  
"Ok, that's enough. Maybe you should get going before it gets too late, Ezekiel." I grumble, easing my wife's hand away from his clutches.  
"Perhaps you are correct, Richard. I bid you farewell. Until we meet again, friends!" Exuberantly, and with a flourish, more pomp and circumstance than I care for, he departs.  
"Come on, Mama." Leading her back up the path that leads to the house, she is a little wobbly on her feet. Taking hold of her elbow, I guide her to the long wooden swing on the porch. "Let's have a seat for a little bit, enjoy the night just a little more. Ok?"  
"Good idea. I do seriously think I may have had too much of that wine, Rick! It tasted like straight grape juice." She giggles, and plops down sideways across my jean clad lap, my hand immediately gravitating to her plump ass.  
In a burnt orange sundress, her elegant shoulders out, the skirt of the dress falls gracefully across her thighs. Lifting the hem higher, I'm running my palm up and across her velvety smooth skin, as we are taking in the immensity of the ink black sky above, dotted throughout with speckles of twinkling stars. Fingers massaging the nape of my neck, gliding her nails across my scalp, the soft puffs of her sweet breath across my cheek, this moment of peaceful solitude is perfect. Her other hand is rhythmically rubbing across my chest, underneath the bulk of my jean shirt, flitting through the sprinkling of hair there. Gently rocking the swing back and forth with the heels of my cowboy boots, engulfed by the hypnotic quiet, I am nearly startled by the softness of her voice breaking through my perusal of the sky.  
"All of my babies are gone, Rick. It's just you and me, old man. Now what?" Michonne questions.  
Taking a moment to give her question some thought, I turn my head to make eye contact with her, to steal a quick taste of her plush, pretty lips. "Well, I told you before, a long time ago, when we were holed up in a barn, taking shelter from the road. We do what we need to do, and then we live. We've raised a family of wonderful kids. Been blessed with a horde of grandkids. Killed and fought alongside and lost some great friends, family. And because of all of that fighting and struggling, we all made it, we're safe. Most importantly we have each other, we have eternity to be together, Chonne. Now we get to live, for just me and you, baby. Just for us. We have this future, this gift, because you led us here."  
"No, Rick, we, led us here. We did this together, sweetheart, me and you." She asserts, removing her hand from my shirt, pointing her finger from herself then to me, pressing it to the spot above my heart.  
"You're right, baby, you're always right. We did it together, me and you." Agreeing with her assertion, I adoringly place my palm to the side of her face, breathless at the sight of this beautiful woman. How amazingly sexy she is. How intense and freeing her love for me has always been. In that moment, I can no longer wait to be inside of her. To taste her arousal on my lips. Stopping the swing, I rise up, carrying her in my arms.  
"Rick, what are you doing?" She sexily smirks at me, eyelashes lowering in a demure sweep.  
"Taking my wife in the house, so I can fuck her." I grunt, hefting her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. "She's been teasing me all day. Wearing this short, little sexy dress. Flirting and dancing with Ezekiel." I playfully swat her behind.  
Raucous laughter leaves her lips, and I'm marching us across the threshold, kicking behind me to close the door with the sole of my boot. Not wanting to wait any longer, to take the extra time to get to our bedroom, I ease her down my chest and to her feet. Heavily panting, I lean my body on hers, pinning her up against the wall in the entry foyer, and drop to my knees. Ignoring the twinge of pain in the crackle of my knees on my way down, I'm too hungry for Michonne to care. Reaching under the skirt of her dress, taking hold of her panties with both hands, I slowly drag them down the long length of her creamy thighs and legs. Lifting her dainty feet to step out of them, I grab one of them and kiss each of her toes, then further up until I get to her knee, leaving a wet kiss behind it, a move that I know turns her on.  
Lips parted, a breathy moan escapes her. Encouraging her to let loose, I toss her thigh over my shoulder. "Grab your skirt, Chonne, hold it up for me." I direct her. Nodding and pulling the skirt of her dress up around her waist, she reveals the wetness of her flowery lips to me. Overcome with lust, and an overwhelming desire to gorge and feast on her, I continue my kisses from her knee until I reach her sweet spot, where I suck and bite the already damp thickness of her inner thigh. "Mmmm…gotdamn, Chonne."  
"Rick…" is all she can say at first. Composing herself, her piercing eyes latch on to mine, she whispers from her full lips, "Taste my pussy, Rick."  
Closing my eyes, gathering every bit of control I can muster, I lick two of my fingers, and rub them indulgently through the cleft of her pussy. Spreading the lips apart, I unveil the delicate pink insides of my wife's juicy pussy, and proceed to devour her. Slowly, repeatedly licking her from her wet hole and up to her exposed clit, I'm like a man possessed. Feeling as though I can't get enough of her, my need for her too immense to be satisfied, I'm prodding at her hole, fucking her with my tongue, giving her the release I'm denying myself. Drenching my mouth and face with the evidence of her orgasm, Michonne releases a series of drawn out moans, each louder than the next. Crushing my head and face into her pussy with her free hand, I'm lashing and licking at her pearl, greedily slurping her sticky cum.  
Releasing my head from her firm grasp, Michonne allows her own to fall back and rest against the wall, her face relaxed, eyes closed, features in repose. "Shit." She murmurs in between pants, weakly dropping the skirt of her dress over my head, lazily running her tongue across her lips.  
Standing, smarting a bit again at the painful crackle of my knees, I'm again pinning my wife against the wall. "You like that?" I ask, my lips pecking little wet kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. My hands behind her neck, I tilt her lips up to mine, and lick and suck her top, then her bottom lip.  
"Yes, Rick. I like that." She gives me a nearly imperceptible nod to affirm her words, her eyes heavy with lust. Sticking her tongue out, I suck on its sweetness, giving her a little taste of herself. Now she's writhing against me, hands hastily unbuttoning my shirt, seeking the warmth of my chest. Accepting her tongue into my mouth, it tangles and slides against my own. As she removes my shirt from my shoulders, I push down the straps of her dress, releasing the bounty of her full rounded breasts. Leaning down, I graze my thumb along the peak of one blackberry colored nipple, suctioning the other into my mouth. Arching her back, eager for my attention, she's moaning and clutching at the back of my head again.  
No longer able to withstand the tense pressure that has built in my groin, I pull back from her, needing a release. Quickly unbuckling my belt and pants, Michonne's slender fingers work fast, and in no time she's pushing my boxers and jeans to the floor. Stepping out of them, I lean down and place my arms under her thighs, lifting her up the wall. "Grab your skirt again, Chonne."  
Lifting the skirt once more, she bites down on the hem, clenching it between her teeth. The sight of her like this, open and ready for me, threatens to undo me. Easing her down on my turgid flesh, her pussy swallows the entirety of my cock, the sight exciting me even more.  
"Ahhh! That feels so good, Rick." She breathes from her pretty mouth, now slightly open, allowing the evidence of her pleasure to escape as I more firmly pin her to the wall with my weight, rhythmically pounding her flesh with the grind of my hips. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" She continues, attempting to maintain her mouth's hold on her skirt. Failing as her pink tongue licks at the corner of her lips, the skirt falls to gather at the crook of her thighs.  
"Damn, Chonne, you feel amazing. Always so snug and wet for me. I've been needing you all day." Picking up the pace, I open her thighs wider, pushing them back further to get deeper inside my wife, to hit that fleshy bundle that will send her over the edge she's already teetering across.  
Feverish with the tight sensation of the friction around my cock, I'm sweating and grunting into the crook of her neck. Sucking, licking, biting, kissing, I'm enraptured with the feel of her, and despite the frantic need to release, I want this feeling to last.  
"Rick, that dick feels incredible! Mmmm…" I can feel her insides grasping me tightly with a pulsing sensation, announcing her pending climax. Seeking to intensify her orgasm, I stroke her clit, applying just a hint of pressure. Increasing the depth of my penetration, angling and thrusting my hips, my beautiful wife is breaking apart around me.  
"You're so sexy, baby. Look at you, drenching my dick. Shit!" I'm taking in the glow of her skin, licking away the gloss of perspiration across her collarbone.  
Having done this dance an innumerable amount of times over the years, Michonne knows when I'm close, and coming down from her own high, she begins a slow bounce and wind of her hips, dropping on to my dick with just enough force. It's driving me crazy. The twisting screw of her snug fit over me is almost too much. "You fuck me so good, Chonne. Keep going. Keep moving your ass like that. You got it, baby." I nod, closing my eyes at the gluttonous thrill of what she's doing to me.  
Quickening my thrusts, I'm chasing the delicious burst of my orgasm. It's right there, a hair's breadth away. I'm pounding, digging, the wet smack of our bodies crashing against each other sounds across the room. The hard piston of my hips is driving her thick body further up the wall, her pretty breasts bouncing against my chest. Reaching out for me, she holds my face in her hands, then kisses me. Her firm, sloppy, wet kiss, the sound of her moaning into my mouth, it all finally tips me over. My body tenses with the shock of pleasure, electrifying and locking my limbs in place. Growling, the flush of satisfaction covers my skin, leaving behind a dusting of goose bumps dotting my flesh.  
Releasing her legs from the crook of my arms, I'm crouching to gently place my wife on her feet. Giddy, her palm covering her face, unsteady on her feet, limbs weak, Michonne breaks out into a whoop of laughter. Standing naked in front of her, still trying to compose myself, her fit is contagious, and I find myself laughing as well, but not really sure why.  
"What are we laughing at, Chonne?" I ask in between chuckles. Hands on my hips I'm awaiting her answer.  
"I don't know, Rick. I'm just laughing…at us I guess." Coming closer to me, seductively rubbing her body up against mine, she looks me directly in the eyes, holding me close and whispers on a wide grin. "Carrying your wife in the house. Fucking in the entryway, up against a wall." Slowly stroking my tight biceps, she continues, "Who's old now, Deputy?"  
Remembering the many references our kids made today to our advanced ages, I smile, knowing damn well I'm not old. And neither is she.  
"Shit, give me an hour. I'll be ready to go again, Counselor."  
"I know you will, Deputy. I'm counting on it." Turning, she ambles away from me towards our bedroom, her fat bottom teasing me with its swing back and forth.  
Wiping sweat from my eyes, I can feel the pull of sleep threatening to drag me away into dream land. I want to fight it, recover and have my way with my sexy ass wife again. But it's a losing fight, and feeling every one of my sixty plus years, the stinging ache in my knees, the dull pain in my back, I holler down the hall to my sweetheart, the love of my life. "Chonne, maybe give me two hours?"


End file.
